Totem Poles
by HeatherIsobel
Summary: Recovery is important.Healing takes time. Everyone has their own way of dealing with the past... It's been another year since the disaster in Blackwood Pines, and no one is willing to go back. But perhaps closure is necessary. Real closure. All eight companions reunite to finally finish what began two years ago.
1. Prologue

**1\. Prologue**

First came the darkness. A writhing sea of nothing, a whirl of shifting shadows and something unseen yet to be seen.

 _Dark, so dark..._

Then came the cold. Tendrils of ice pulling at the skin, frostbite tearing at the senses and a numbness creeping over the -

 _Cold...cold, so very…cold._

Next came the hunger. A constant ache ripping into the stomach, an unbearable gnawing at-  
 _  
HUNGRY. So very HUNGRY._

But then came the help. A safety, a comfort, a chance at salvation. A rescu-

 _HUNGRY. SO VERY. HUNGRY.  
_  
And came the isolation. An incurable pain, a curse to the yearning heart and a fear of what will come.

 _...Alone...so alone...forgotten...ABANDONED…  
_  
Well...what does come next? When your repentance has been consumed? When your spirit is devoured? When your mind is spat out like a bone?

What hope is left when the darkness engulfs? What hope is left when the cold ensnares? What hope is left when help is gone forever?

What hope is left when the hunger comes?


	2. Pulse

**2\. Pulse**

Misfortune is often unfair.

Those who do nothing but ill are rewarded with luck and prosperity, and yet those who suffer great horrors must walk those roads yet again.

Is there justice in the world?

…Well, who are we to ask that?

Is it not funny, how fast the world can change? Within months, it can be shifted and shaped into something unrecognisable. Of course, this may not be the whole world, but rather, the world of a group of people. A group of friends, if you will.

A lot changed through the year. New relationships had formed and old rivalries had crumbled, but new fights still bloomed and hostilities were grown, tended to like a garden of thorns.

But through their ever moving lives, there was one constant. One thing that kept them all bound together, although it was probably far from a reassurance.

The annual getaways. They really had not turned out the way they were planned. With one leading to the vanishing of two friends, and the other turning into a night of horror that none would ever forget…Well, remembering those times would be bittersweet, to say the least.

Mike, the silver-tongued. Oh the destruction he had seen. His braveness served him well, that night, but it could not erase the images of horror that he had witnessed. His way with words could not wipe away the damage he had done to others. He became desperate for repentance. Mike suffered with his guilt.

Sam, the pacifist. She had faith until the end, she did. Her belief in her friends was so strong, that when that delusion was shattered, it had very serious repercussions on her. Perhaps she would never be the same again. Her eyes had been opened, and, well…Sam discovered the cold truth.

Chris, the protector. His humour and wits were no match for all of the horrors he saw. He faced the worst fate of all – how many times had he seen his friends almost killed at the hands of another? Even once would put a dark stain on someone's sanity, that is for certain. Chris was left a numb shell of what he once was.

Jessica, the trusting. She had been so innocent, had she not. Life had always been a party for her, no matter what trials she once had to face, she would overcome them. But not now. Scarred and broken more than any, it's doubtful that a smile would grace her face once again. Jessica found all the darkness in the world.

Ashley, the inquisitive. She had been right not to want to venture further into the darkness on that night. It would have saved her a lot of grief and suffering. But she continued onwards, much to her own demise. Her wild imagination caused a lot more pain than she needed. Ashley wasn't alone for long…

Emily, the resourceful. Her intelligence certainly kept her alive, that's for sure. But at what cost? She pushed away everyone that helped her, her self-importance kept her above everyone else. Despite the disgusting atrocities she discovered, her selfish nature prevailed. Emily discovered the meaning of isolation.

Matt, the loyal. How he had been pushed, but his convictions had never abandoned him. Through all of the difficulties he faced, he had never given up on his friends. Perhaps his compassion kept him strong.

Yes, Matt was the saviour of his friends; he supported them through their own personal nightmares, no matter how hard problems of his own tore at him. He was so dedicated, so very dedicated.

Oh, but we're forgetting someone, aren't we?

Ah, Joshua. He faced more horrors than anyone. Delusions, hallucinations, a hunger for revenge.

He suffered, he suffered greatly. He felt more pain that most would feel in their lifetimes.

Did Joshua get what he deserved? Well, that's up for you to decide.

Does a person who was ill, _sick,_ deserve a fate worse than death? Do they deserve to starve? To know the meaning of isolation and the very epitome of fear? Do they deserve to become a monster? A monster to be hunted and trapped? A monster that will feel pain and anguish for as long as it lives its bitter life?

You'll have to ask yourself that.

Please, try to remember Joshua. He never wanted to harm or hurt anyone. He needed support. He needed love.

He just needed a _friend._


	3. Freaks

**3\. Freaks**

This was a good idea, right? This would get them the closure they needed, right? No, probably not. It hadn't really worked out the last time they had been here.

It was fair to say, Ashley had had one of the worst experiences last winter. She was involved in two of the Psycho's Saw-esque scenarios, not to mention experiencing the wrath of the wendigo.

She had tried to block those memories from her mind completely, oh how hard she had tried, but no matter what she did, the horrors kept returning.

It was well known that Ashley had a tendency to have an over-active imagination, but when that lucidity is combined with a night of trauma, the results are not the best.

The year had been troublesome for Ashley. Hallucinations plagued her vision. Whether she was conscious or not, visions plagued her world. A distorted, warped mask coming ever closer armed with a saw; a pale figure of a ghost, drifting around her in tighter and tighter circles; and something too fast to see – a long limbed figure that would emit constant screeches in her ear, sending Ashley into bouts of terror.

It became exceedingly hard for her to tell reality from her delusions, and it was not made better by her family telling her it was all in her imagination.

Yet when she returned to college, the hallucinations became worse. Sitting in class, she would look to the doorways and a figure would be stood there, shrouded in a translucent mist.

At home it was easier to hide her terror and anxiety attacks she suffered from, but she was out in the open at school. And imaginably, it was hard to hide whilst rocking back and forth and shaking in the middle of a seminar.

So Ashley's family decided that she needed help - something they probably should have thought about sooner. She was directed to the psychiatrist Dr Alan Hill, a specialist in psychological trauma. There had been some opposition to Ashley being put under his jurisdiction, due to his failure at treating Joshua Washington. And yet, there was something strange about Dr Hill, Ashley could feel it. Once again, her intrigue may have gotten the best of her.

Even with Dr Hill's help, Ashley's condition was not getting better. She was worsening by the day. Episodes at college got worse, she was losing copious amounts of sleep and she broke almost all connections to her friends and relations, save for her immediate family, Dr Hill and Sam. She had even pushed Chris away after a while. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to hurt anyone. But in her state of mind, she wasn't sure she could control herself much longer.

Ashley's condition soon deteriorated sooner. She dropped out of college, much to the despair of her family and Sam, and could often be found sat in the garden at the back of her family house, staring out at the corn-fields beyond. They calmed her. There was nothing lurking in the shadows, waiting for her, only the golden light and rustling stalks.

She was also spending an increasing amount of time in Dr Hill's office. Ashley had requested more sessions from him, hoping it would clear her hallucinations.

She had more time to focus now. More time to clear her head. To get better. She needed to get better, right?

But her self-imposed isolation was wearing her down, and she found herself yearning for her friends once again. This was a good sign, right? She wanted to see them again, it couldn't go wrong, right?

So when Dr Hill suggested returning to Mount Madahee, it was good that she said yes, right?

No. No no no. This was a…this was a bad idea. This wouldn't end well. No no no! Death came from the mountain. They shouldn't go back there!

It was clear that Jessica had faced the most horror on the mountain. She had been such a happy, beautiful woman. Of course, she wasn't any more. Being taken by a monster that was akin to a nightmare, her skin cut and ripped and her innocence stripped…well, that would take a toll on everyone.

Jessica's scars served as a constant reminder to her of what she had faced. Gashes across her face and chest would never let her forget about the mountain and the terrible curse that surrounded it.

She had been trusting. Jessica had always looked for the best in people. She had faith in the world. Oh how that faith had been misplaced.

A smile hadn't graced her face since the night. She attended college with a bland expression, her reputation for being a party animal being thoroughly let down. Soon Jessica discovered how many people were her actual friends, and how many hung out with her for popularity, or because they thought they had a shot with her.

 _How was the world so cruel?_ She had asked herself.

But she had then reflected.

 _How could I have been so naïve?_

She had initially found support in Mike. The two stuck together for a while, offering a helping hand to one another. But when Jessica began to suffer through great bouts of depression, Mike was nowhere to be found. His fear of commitment lead him to abandon Jessica in her time of need.

She tried to hide behind makeup. Behind the false faces it provided. Foundation hid her gaunt cheekbones, mascara brightened her dull eyes and ruby lipstick brought a glossy but fake smile to her face.

But all the makeup in the world could not help Jessica. She was trapped in a cycle. She would feel better for a while; she would look at herself and smile as though her scars didn't matter and they didn't define her. But not a day later would she stare at the gaunt face that once was so full of life. A tear would roll down from the sunken eyes, making a trail down her pale skin, falling with salty taste onto her chapped lips.

She couldn't hide from everyone though. Her family and friends soon noticed her gradual and deterioration, but they could not do much to help her. It was Jessica's sister, Amelia, who first suggested that Jessica's best hope was to go to therapy. However, Jessica profoundly refused, with claims that she was fine, much to her sister's distress.

It took some convincing, but eventually, Jessica agreed, only on the terms that she was accompanied to each session. Her therapist, Dr Sarah North, had been understanding of Jessica's reasons, and encouraged her to communicate and share as much as possible.

At first Amelia had accompanied her, wanting to support her sister to the best of her abilities. Yet when Jessica showed no signs of improvement after two months of treatment, Amelia gave up on her sister.

But Jessica was not abandoned entirely. Matt had never left her. They had never been too close, but every day, Matt was forced to watch Jessica crumble into a shadow of who she once was, and that just didn't sit right with him.

And with Matt, came Emily. Jessica was forced to recall how good friends she and Emily had been for so many years, before they began to hiss and spit every time they saw each other.

Gradually, Jessica became better, even if it was only slightly. Her bonds with Emily and Matt grew stronger, as did her own body. Small signs of life sprung to her face in the forms of her cheeks gaining colour and her eyes gaining that little sparkle that they had always contained.

Jessica wasn't the type to make promises. Yet one day, as she gazed at the scars on her face, a small hand tracing over them, she vowed never to return to Blackwood Pines. Her life was finally getting better. She felt _alive_ again. She felt like Jessica again.

And so, when Dr North had told her of the plans for a gathering at the Washington Lodge, all she could do was weep.

Tears that reflected memories of blood and anguish poured down her face.

She couldn't go back there. No. No no no. Please…no.


	4. Misery

**4\. Misery**

This was going to be fine. They would all see each other again. They would all benefit from the experience. Bad luck wouldn't strike them three times.

Sam's strong sense of faith had been broken after her night on Mount Madahee. She had always looked for the good in people, she kept herself believing in the goodness of other people's hearts, no matter if they messed up.

But after that night, how could she ever believe in people again?

Everyone's true colours were shown at the lodge. Was it even possible that some of those people still had even a whiff of purity left in their hearts? Sam doubted it. It was her faith in Josh that had been whittled away the most. Not like she had to worry about that now though…

Sam was quick to recover from the winter's trauma. She had faced the curse of the mountain head on and survived, that was enough to keep her going. Sam was strong, there was no doubting that.

At first Sam had been sleepless. Worried not for herself, but for her friends whom she knew suffered much more than her. Ashley especially. The two had grown close in the winter months, before their annual getaway had ruined all of that, and now, Ashley seemed further away than ever.

It wasn't difficult to see that everyone was growing apart. They all wanted to distance themselves from the horrors they had experienced, including everyone who had been involved with it.

But this angered Sam. How could they just break apart like a glass pane shattered with a rock? It wasn't right. They had been through so much together. They couldn't just forget that.

But as the weeks trailed on, Sam found herself growing colder towards her so-called 'friends'. She had sacrificed so much for them. She thought they had all had a connection because of what they had been through together.

She thought wrong.

How _dare_ they just abandon her like that! Did she mean nothing to them? To any of them?

She had tried so hard. So damn hard to help them. To help them all. She never gave up on them. Ever.

Perhaps she should just give up on them as well.

But Sam knew there was one person she could never give up on. Ashley.

She was so weak, so scared…Sam just couldn't leave her to suffer. She would not sink so low as to abandon her as well.

Sam would never lose faith in Ashley, she was sure of that. No matter how much the others would turn her very being to ice with their distance and their apathy, Ashley – even in her ill state – would always be a ray of light to thaw Sam's heart.

It had been hard on Sam when Ashley had begun to deteriorate again, not that she would admit to it though, for fear that the latter would blame herself and begin to spiral into a pit of depression.

Sam felt sick when she looked at Ashley. A girl who's eyes once were so full of light now had dark rings surrounding them, and her pupils would dart about as if there was something that only she could see.

In an act of desperation, Sam had visited Dr Hill.

In retrospect, maybe it hadn't been the best of plans.

For days afterwards, she was crushed by guilt at visiting Ashley's therapist behind her back, discussing private matters that she shouldn't even have been concerned in.

Sam had betrayed her best friend, hadn't she?

Did Sam even have faith in herself anymore? She couldn't be sure. Every day, a gnawing sensation would stir in her guts. An ache, a sadness, a crushing weight, a despicable cold, a scorching warmth. Sam was sick of herself.

What had she done?

Sam always reflected on her meeting with Dr Hill. He was unusual…eccentric, even. Sam could see why Ashley was intrigued by him; with her active imagination, he must have seemed like an enigmatic and complex character in one of her stories.

He provided Sam with advice on how to deal with her own fears, and how to have patience with Ashley and her hallucinations. After all, it was only natural that Ashley needed time to recover. It was near certain that she would relapse, but with Sam's help, she would recover and become stronger in the process.

He also provided her with a plan.

A return to the Washington Lodge. A chance to reconcile and reunite. They would get closure. It all made sense.

This made absolutely no sense. How did he get roped back into this? 'Let's all go back to Blackwood Pines' – which idiot suggested that?

In comparison to the others, Mike was cruising after his experience at the lodge. He didn't carry scars, nor did he suffer from trauma. He'd found a part of himself he hadn't even known existed before that night. A bravery he didn't know he had. When faced with a problem, he fought head-first through it.

It gave him a sense of pride. He craved the attention and the purpose he gained from leading his friends. He was brave for them.

But could he save them?

'No' was the simple answer. But Michael's conscience was a lot deeper than some people may have thought.

Mike may have protected them from the horrors of the wendigoes. He sacrificed himself, and himself alone, countless times to protect them.

But he could not protect them from the pains they suffered from afterwards. The trauma had had its effect on everyone.

It pained Mike to watch his friends fall before his eyes, as though they were shining beacons that dimmed and died over time.  
He tried to help...he did.  
He cared for Jessica. He thought that with his help, she would recover, and become the sprite youth she always had been. But things did not go this way, and instead Jessica worsened, striking fear into Mike's very being.

Old fears rose up in a towering wall in front of Mike, barricading him from his companions. His fear of commitment reared its ugly head, sending him shying away, worried only for the safety of himself, disregarding the needs of his friends.  
To commit was to become attached, and from attachment misfortune awaits. and what if he hurt his friends? Mike knew he could never live with the guilt. And so he had to distance himself from them, and so his protection turned into isolation.

The months dragged on, but the feeling of guilt did not pass. What has he done to his friends? The question gnawed at him like a hungry wolf chewing at a bone.  
Had he even saved them at all? Would they have been better off if he had left them for dead? They wouldn't suffer like they were suffering now.

But now, Mike had no one. He pushed everyone away for their own safety, but he hurt them in the process. This, he realised too late. He was alone, with the weight of his world resting painfully on his shoulders, threatening to crush him every moment.  
There was no one to talk to. No one to share the guilt with. Mike was slowly suffocating in his isolation, with room to breathe but none at the same time.

How could he ever face them again?  
Jessica, whom he'd run from when she needed him most. Sam, who needed faith, but all he did was take it away. Emily, whom he had already done wrong so many times.  
Would they ever forgive him?

No...he couldn't see them again. He wouldn't! He would only hurt them more. There was no way in hells name that he was ever going back to that god-forsaken place


	5. The Innocents

**5\. The Innocents**

This was _not_ happening. This was _so not_ happening. No way were they all going to go back to that hell-mountain. No _way._

Emily wasn't forced to face the traps of the Psycho, and she survived the curse of the wendigo. Those beings didn't plague her dreams like the rest of the group. No, what terrified Emily was _people._

She had stared down the barrel of a gun, in which housed a bullet that could have ended her life in a second. And who had been holding that gun? Mike. How _could_ he? After all they had been through together, he was willing to send a bullet cruising right through her eye!

Emily had left the mountain enlightened.

At first, she settled in well again, despite the horrors she had witnessed. Her family took care of her, as did Matt. Oh, how she had treasured Matt. He was always there for her, he would never abandon her. Of that, she had been sure.

Settling into college again was what pushed Emily over the edge.

At first, it was Mike that scared her. Visions of his face contorting behind the pistol, his hands quaking as his finger twitched across the trigger. But Emily could move past that. She hadn't seen Mike since the incident, logically, she knew that he would never, and could never do anything else to hurt her.

Her subconscious didn't get the message apparently.

Soon enough, it wasn't only Mike that Emily became afraid of. Walking through college halls, with crowds of people pushing from either side, it's easy to feel trapped. Every shove past, every time she was roughly shouldered, another part of Emily's confidence was chipped away.

Even her friends became enemies at some point.

She was fearful of Ashley, who had willingly supported Mike's almost lethal actions. She was wary of Chris, who had done nothing to stop those events from unfolding in front of her eyes.

Did they all _want_ her to die? Were they all that sick of her?

It was not surprising when Emily's grades began to drop. She would skip out on class without her parents knowledge, hiding in bathrooms and in storage cupboards, because no matter how small and claustrophobic those places may seem, they were thousands of times better than watching as strangers strolled by, evil intent seeming to glitter in everyone's eyes.

Her parents, seeing no reason for their daughter's decline in academic success, pushed her into extra classes, unseeing of the wild, flashing eyes that Emily possessed at the sight of strangers.

Her fears were only strengthened when Sam broke away from the group. One the few people Emily could be near had vanished as if she was a speck of dust on the wind, blown away like she was nothing.

It was then when her anxiety started showing.

Emily showed a clear unwillingness to go anywhere else other than her or Matt's house, not even small parties and social events that her parents would hold.

Perhaps her parents noticed her fly-away hair and her dirty nails, but if they did, they did not show it. The thought of a therapist crossed their minds once or twice, but they refused to admit that their girl – once so smart and strong – maybe had something plaguing at her mind, relentless in its attacks.

It wasn't long before even Matt scared her. What if he was only getting close so he could harm her? Did he even love her? Probably not. Who could love her now?

She snapped.

She sent Matt on his way with a "You need to go…please…" and a sad wave of her hand. He didn't love her, did he? He never did.

At least, that's what Emily thought. But Matt's heart, pure as gold, would not abandon her. He might not have felt a romantic attraction towards her anymore, causing them to break up, but he would never stop caring for her.

And neither would Jessica.

The pair had once been as thick as thieves, their friendship being shattered by Mike's fling with Jessica.

But now Mike was out of the picture, and through shared experience and a desire for a friend to trust, the pair were brought together once again.

Emily accompanied Jessica to her therapy sessions, picking up useful information and often being provided with advice for herself from Dr North, whom had shown sympathy for the pair. It was certainly not every day she encountered a case like this after all.

Matt, Emily and Jessica made an unstoppable team, although they might have their own personal struggles, each decided it would be best to stick together, through thick and thin, that's how they would cope. They didn't need anyone else. They had each other.

So why did they have to go back to the lodge? They found a coping mechanism on their own. They didn't need closure. They didn't need _anything_ else apart from themselves. This trip was going to destroy everything.

They were ready for this. They were prepared. They would all make it through this. They would come out better on the other side.

Matt, the pure of heart. He had been the strongest, in his own way. He faced death straight in its glassy, pale eye numerous times, but he never gave up, on his friends or himself.

Selfless till the end, that was Matt.

He was scarred by the wendigoes, he was terrified from the mines, he could have chosen to save himself countless times. But did he? No.

It wasn't the monsters, or the people that scared Matt, but the thought of losing them. He couldn't stand it. They all deserved such happy, trouble-free lives, and he was determined that they should get that. He always had been. It was just going to be a harder task now.

Even so, it had been hard for him to get back into the swing of things. He had to stop playing for the school football team for a month or two, due to the injuries he had received whilst on the mountain.

He thought his problems would be solved once he could take up his position of line-backer once again, but Matt soon discovered he was wrong.

He had missed his team when he had been away. Through his recovery process, he was always counting down the days until he would be deemed fit enough to play again. But now he was here, well, he didn't feel at all fulfilled.

His team was still the same - loud, bad-mouthed, but still fun all the same…but they weren't his _friends._ They weren't the group of people he had been on the mountain with. They hadn't faced the wendigoes. They hadn't almost seen their girlfriends die before their eyes. They hadn't experienced helplessness. They hadn't experienced triumph. He didn't share that bond with them.

And so, Matt began to spend less and less time hanging out with his team, and more time taking care of his real friends.

Emily had been his main concern, of course. It had hurt him deeply when she tried to push him away, but he respected her decisions. They broke up, that was that. He didn't hold any resentment towards her. Why should he? But he knew that he would always be there for her.

Jessica was his second priority. She was so frail, so weak, anyone would have had to have a heart of stone to not feel pity for her. But Matt knew better than to treat her like an injured bird. He supported her and let her flourish once again, sticking with her through every relapse, and every sleepless night. He was there for her.

It was not surprising when a relationship began to blossom between them. Brighter than he had ever had with Emily, and more gentle than she had ever had with Mike. Matt tried to tell himself that it wasn't right, at first - he had just split up with Emily, he couldn't go after Jess as well. He didn't want her to be his rebound. That would be too cruel.

But as the weeks ploughed on, Matt couldn't deny his feelings any more. Every day, he would fear for how he would tell Jessica, and how Emily would react. It began to have repercussions on his everyday life, which no one could ignore. Matt decided to come clean to Emily first, but much to his surprise, she already knew. In fact, everyone already knew. It had been so obvious. Not to mention the fact that Jessica had already had numerous conversations with Emily about her 'little crush'.

So they began to date, that was that. No secrets, just support.

Life became so much better for both of them – for Emily as well. She loved to see Matt's face light up whenever Jessica managed a small smile. She was truly happy for him. Despite her seeming like a third-wheel to an outsider, the trio knew she was not. They all relied on each other. For Matt to keep them strong, for Emily to offer logic and reason, and for Jessica to light up their worlds with a small quip and a smile every so often.

Yeah, life was good.

Together, they would all benefit from the experience. They would all make it through. The three of them, content, happy and peaceful. That's all Matt wanted.


	6. The Descent

**6\. The Descent**

Back to the lodge…brilliant plan… how could they think this was a good idea? Oh God… how could they do this?

Ah, Christopher. What was there to say about him? He had one of the worst experiences on Mount Madahee. How many deaths had he seen? How many scars had he gained? How many times had he wished he had been stronger? How many times had he wished to change the past?

A constant gnawing guilt, a never-fading fear of what lies in the dark, the memories of his friends suffering before his eyes…well, they would leave anyone a shell of who they once were.

And that's what they did to Chris; once so jovial, so full of life, humour and love, now numb, as though he had been thrown in a pool of ice-cold water, and all of his happiness had been drained out of him.

His family had been understanding of his needs, sending him to a therapist as soon as he began to show signs of mental deterioration. Per Chris' request, he was assigned to the care of Dr Alan Hill, motivated by his desire to take care of Ashley. He wanted her safe at all costs – nothing could reverse the damage he had done, but he could at least try to atone.

" _I'm so sorry Ashley. I'm so fucking sorry."_ How had he been so stupid? So blind? _"I can't…I can't…"_ He'd raised that gun up to her face – he pointed it straight between her eyes! How could he have done that? He was so stupid. So _stupid._

Ashley's cries always ran through his mind after that night. He was supposed to have loved her, but instead he almost killed her. And for what? So he could live? Chris often thought that he'd made the wrong choice. If he had died then, it would all have been better, both then and now.

Of course, it turned out the gun only fired blanks. Now there was that constant rift between him and Ashley. If one of them had died, this wouldn't be happening! Ashley _knew_ he had tried to kill her. Willingly.

 _Stupid fucking Josh._ How could he have done this to them? Josh was supposed to be their best friend, and he threw it all away in the sake of revenge.

But now Chris was alone.

Ashley had grown steadily worse despite her treatment. Chris watched as she pushed everyone away, and so when it came to his turn, he gladly went. He couldn't stand it anymore. Every time he looked at Ashley, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had done.

His best friend was gone too. Josh never really had any hope, but Chris still couldn't believe that he was gone. Lost to the mines. Taken by the wendigo. Chris hoped his death had been quick. No matter what Josh had done to them, Chris would always be his best friend – he didn't want to imagine Josh's suffering.

 _What if things had been different? What if I helped Josh more? He'd still be with us today, wouldn't he? We'd all still be friends – happy, together._

Dr Hill had been concerned with Chris' condition.

Most patients would come back from a trauma such as this screaming and crying, fighting and yelling, speaking of nightmares and visions they had.

Chris was different.

He was quiet, but it was an odd form of quiet. Chris wasn't hiding anything, it's not that he didn't want to talk; in fact, when he did talk, he was very open about his feelings. He wanted to get better.

No, Chris was quiet because he was slowly losing himself. He was slipping away into the clutches of an icy numbness. A shell.

He was given medication, extra sessions, time from school, and lo and behold, Chris began to feel better, much unlike the others in his group. A spark returned to his eyes, the occasional laugh bubbling up from some lost recess of himself.

But Dr Hill knew that there was more to the process than chucking a few meds down a patients throat and expecting them to be better in a few weeks.

Chris was lonely – a fool could see that. He had no contact with Ashley anymore, and he hadn't seen the other members of the group in just under a year.

And so, Dr Hill devised a plan. A triumphant return to the lodge – the annual 'Blackwood Winter Getaway' would be reinstated. Now there was no underlying threats lurking on the mountain – no psycho, none of these so-called 'wendigoes' – it would be the perfect opportunity for the friends to see each other again, to grow stronger and to get their much-needed closure.

Oh God…was there anything worse? Returning to the place where they had all come to so much harm? They couldn't go back – they just couldn't! It would end badly, oh so badly, for all of them.


	7. The Voices

**7\. The Voices**

Ah, the suffering these people have endured. Do you sympathise with them? Do their stories tug at your little, withered heart strings? I doubt it.

Each and every one of them had to face trials of unimaginable horror. Do you know how that feels? To fear for your very life as you face things you could only see in nightmares?

Monsters that live in the dark, biding their time whilst what's left of their mind screams for food. Who would have thought it?

But are we sure that these 'wendigoes' are even real? After all, the only proof of their existence we have are rambling stories of the seven survivors. Severe psychological trauma can often lead to people…seeing things. After what these people went through, is it not plausible that these tall-tales have been dreamt up by their wild imaginations, their brains fried and scrambled like eggs.

I'd argue that it's entirely possible that what these survivors claimed to see are just fictitious beings designed to justify the events on the mountain. And trust me, I would know.

Yes, delusions. That's something you're very used to though, isn't it? Can you trust what you see any more? What you hear?

There's always something lurking in the darkness, isn't there? There's always a creak and a screech in the quiet. Wherever there is peace, soon, creatures that lurk in the recesses of the mind will come forth.

Do you think that you're alone in your troubles? Do you think that you're special? Do you think that you're the only one who suffers, and so everyone should have you as their top priority?

You're even more delusional than could ever be anticipated. Not everyone has to pander to your every whim. No one even needs you. Do you doubt me? Think about it. Wouldn't everyone be so much happier without you to worry about? You know the right answer.

 _No…_

You're dangerous to be around. Everyone needs to be away from you. After all, who in the world _could_ love you? After you pushed everyone away, after what you have become, you don't deserve their love. You should be left alone. You should be abandoned, shouldn't you?

 _No…please, no…_


	8. The Arrival

**8\. The Arrival**

Chris honestly could not think of a worse situation to be in. He would prefer the months he spent in desperate loneliness over this. He would take the _wendigoes_ over this.

Here he was, trapped in a metal box hundreds of feet above the ground, with the three worst companions he could have.

Across from him sat Sam. There was a certain sadness in her eyes that bore into him with an aching pain, staring with dull emotion. She had once been so full of life, like a beacon in their dismal lives. She was so different now, not like…not like last year.

Last year, that seemed like centuries ago, now. Chris and Sam had sat together, in this very cable-car, telling stories and jokes, preparing themselves for the night ahead. Of course, they hadn't expected it to go so awry.

Now one of their group was dead, and everyone else had been separated by their own problems and trauma. Chris would never have wished that fate on anyone.

He pretended not to notice how Sam's hand had crept closer to Ashley's during the ascent of the mountain, and how their fingers intertwined like his had once done.

But he'd undone all of that, hadn't he? His own fear had driven him to do something he would never have done in his right mind. He'd tried to kill Ashley. He was going to shoot her in the head. And for what, so he'd have a chance at life? It wasn't worth it. This was no life. He had no one. And now both of them had to live with his decision.

His eyes constantly flitted to morose figure of Ashley. Oh, what had he done to her? Her face was gaunt, her eyes were hollow and circled with shadows, and Chris couldn't help but notice how she shook as her gaze flickered around the cab.

In her hands, Ashley held a Rubik Cube, her thin fingers twisting it and rotating it in a series of quick motions, as if she was incredibly well practiced. He supposed it was a distraction for her, to stop the hallucinations that were ever present at the corner of her eyes.

A sigh escaped Chris' lips in cold realisation. He hadn't spoken to Ashley in around five months; he had no idea of how she was progressing in her treatment, if she was getting better or worse. His chest started to ache as further realisation hit him; he had once known her favourite music, cheesy pop, and her favourite drink, cherry Coke, which she claimed was one of the best beverages money could buy - Chris had never been too sure though. But now…he knew nothing. Ashley was a completely different person now, or at least, she seemed like it, but they both knew that that was a wish that would never come true. They would both have to bear their crosses. There was no changing the past, after all.

The fourth companion on the journey was none other than Dr Hill.

Why the hell did it have to be Dr Hill? Chris had nothing against the guy it's just…he was _creepy._ It was an indisputable fact that Alan Hill was unnerving; his enigmatic nature was oddly intriguing, but his face had that constant, omniscient smile. It just creeped Chris out.

Granted, though, Dr Hill had helped Chris through one of the worst periods of his life, when there was no one else to offer support. He would always be grateful for that. He had also been the organiser of this trip. Chris was…less grateful for that.

 _Chris arrived at the foot of the mountain, a dull gnawing sensation stirring in his gut. He felt sick. He was_ going _to be sick. His anxiety was soothed slightly by the presence of his therapist, whom had accompanied him on the journey. Dr Hill was a constant. A steady rock, all be it a creepy one._

 _He had ushered Chris up the uneven path, repeating comforting phrases and words of encouragement, Chris needed that if he was going to continue._

 _Reaching the cable car station had almost resulted in Chris turning on the spot and trekking back down the path and driving away for all eternity. But instead, he had found himself routed to the spot, as if the ice had frozen him to the ground._

 _Sam had greeted him with a gentle embrace and a wave, snapping him out of his nervous disposition. But it wasn't Sam he was concerned with, it was Ashley. He hadn't expected much, but he was given even less. She had barely glanced up at him before her already pale cheeks lightened further and her pupils dilated in fear._

 _Helpless. That's how he felt. A mind-numbing helplessness. Just like how he had felt last year as he watched Josh's 'death'. He could never forget that moment._

 _He had watched with a cold heart as Dr Hill had made his way over to Ashley, concern evident by his furrowed brow._

 _Sam exchanged a few words with Chris, a light smile forced onto her face, but her voice gave away how tired and distant she had become._

 _Would any of them ever be the same?_

A bright movement caught Chris' eye, snapping him out of his monotone memories. He glanced up to see the Rubik Cube, now complete, being held out to him by the shaking hand of Ashley.

Confused by her intent, he gazed up at her, one eyebrow quirked as a silent query.

"Mix it." She told him, her voice quiet, but a strong tone underlying the phrase, so different to her usual…her _old_ sweet melody.

Taking it from her with the gentlest touch, Chris began to rotate and twist the sides of the puzzle, the quiet clicks and creaks calming his nerves in the oddest way.

After a minute of fiddling with the cube, Chris was finally satisfied and looked up to return it back to its owner.

He stopped sharply when he noticed the state that Ashley was in. When he was previously mixing up the puzzle, she had been staring intently, willing him to finish faster, but now her eyes were screwed up tightly, her hands clasped together, her knuckles turning white from the pressure she was putting on them.

Unsure of what action to take next, Chris reached out and tapped Ashley's hand. He regretted that action straight away.

Her eyes flew open, large and hopeful for a second before widening in fear, her gaze being cast around as tears began to well in her eyes.

Immediately, Sam and Dr Hill were on 'high alert' as if they were dogs guarding their owner with a terrifying stillness.

"Ashley!" Sam called, barely supressing the distress that was bubbling up in her throat as she tried to calm her friend who was quickly withdrawing into the foetal position, eyes still flashing wildly.

"Ashley! It's okay. They're not real. They're not." Sam's rhythmic voice was the only sound in the cable car, save for the rapid breathing coming from Ashley. "We're here. We're fine. You're fine. They're not real. You are. You're fine." The repeated phrases told Chris that this was not the first time something like this had happened, and Sam was well-rehearsed in her role of calming Ashley down.

Chris recalled when he had once been responsible for Ashley. It was a weight to bare, but he would have done it a thousand times over given the chance.

" _Ashley! Ashley! Can you hear me? You're going to be okay! You're going to be fine! There is just you and me here. We're alone. There's nothing out there. They're not real, you have to listen to me Ash. You're going to be fine, you're going to be fine…"_

"I wouldn't take it too personally, if I were you." The low voice of Dr Hill seemed to resonate in his ear, running around his head like a drum. The quiet voice seemed to echo Chris' thoughts exactly – it wouldn't be the first time that Chris had suspected the therapist of being able to read minds.

"Ashley has been through a lot these past months, it's understandable that being back here will trigger some…unfortunate memories." Chris noticed the man's awkward phrasing and how he glanced out of the window as he spoke, clearly trying to move away from the subject of last year.

But Chris thought back on Dr Hill's words. _Ashley's been through a lot these past months._ Maybe if he hadn't been so stupid, he could have helped her! Maybe she wouldn't be suffering like she was now. Oh, God! This was all his fault. Instead, he had just abandoned her, leaving her like a lost puppy on the side of the road for someone else to pick up – for _Sam_ to pick up.

"Christopher. Don't blame this on yourself." Dr Hill's voice broke through his thoughts again. Chris turned to see the therapist staring out of the window still, seemingly more engaged with the view than his patient, looking as if he had never spoken in the first place.

Chris decided to follow suite and looked out of his own window to the right, staring out at the mountain ranges surrounding them.

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful, but in the back of his mind, all Chris could imagine was the white, snow-covered mountains being stained with a brilliant red. The blood of his family, friends…of himself, of Ashley. How could such a perfect place be so tainted with horror?

As they drew closer to the top of the ridge, Chris found his eyes beginning to play tricks on him. The trees that were far away now seemed to spring out of the ground, and in their twisted branches, figures seemed to move. Shapes winding in an out of trees, skittering across fallen trunks and scattered leaves like spiders. Chris took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, he was just seeing things, right? He was just nervous. The threat on the mountain was gone. They blew up the lodge and the sanatorium. No more wendigoes.

He was thrown from his thoughts by the cable car jerking to a halt, his head snapping forwards and slamming back against the glass, leaving a painful ringing the right hand side of his head – good thing he hadn't put his glasses back on, or they would have been shattered by now!

A tap on his hand made him glance up, almost immediately narrowing his eyes as he saw Dr Hill standing up, chuckling at his predicament.

"Come along, Christopher. We've arrived."


	9. The Devil's Rejects

**9\. The Devil's Rejects**

Mike had been adamant that he would never return this god-forsaken place. He _swore_ it. But here he was.

His conscience had worn at him, _consumed_ him, dragging him to the mountain like a noose formed out of his guilt.

How could this be happening? The familiar sensation of cold creeping up his legs like icy vines, only sustained by the warmth they drew from Mike's legs. The howling wind soared past his ears, almost deafening him, but Mike did not hear the low, whistling tones. Instead, the sound was replaced with screaming. The screaming of Jessica, of Emily, of all his friends, tortured by the horrors of the mountain. He was powerless. He could do nothing.

 _"_ _Jessica! Jessica I'm coming!" Outstretched branches snagged at his clothes, thorns tore at his face, sending blood pouring into his eyes before pooling at his chin. Felled trees and gnarled roots blocking his path in a continuous effort to stop his mission. No matter how fast he ran, how much he shouted, Jessica's screams would only grow more distant. He was losing her by the second. All because he was not strong enough. "Jessica!"_

He sat under the tattered roof of the lower cable car station, its entire structure shaking in the buffeting wind. Mike barely noticed it – it wasn't just his legs that were numb. His senses were dimmed; his mind was cold, distant from the present, submerged in the trauma of the past, and if he remained lost in his memories for too long, he would surely drown.

A sharp chill blew through the air, breaking Mike out of his pained thoughts. A sigh escaped his lips, his breath swirling up into the evening sky like a ploom of smoke from a campfire.

Mike huddled deeper into his jacket – the very same one that he had taken from the sanatorium last year. There was some things he couldn't let go of.

He stared around his environment, surveying with dull eyes that barely registered what he saw. Pine trees encircled the clearing, dark shadows creeping out from their midst, harrowing echoes and noises seeping from between the branches. Snow lay as a soft covering to the ground, hiding everything underneath in a muffling layer. Mike's footprints that he had forged only ten minutes prior were already becoming shallower and shallower as the falling snow filled in the holes.

He didn't fail to notice the vast array of animal tracks left in the snow. Birds, deer and the paw prints of what was assumed to be a wolf. Ah, Wolfie. Mike thought back a lot on that particular companion. _Probably dead now…_ Mike thought with a heavy heart. After the stranger who had helped them through the night had been brutally killed, there would have been no one left to take care of the remaining wolf. The last Mike had seen of the canine was when Wolfie refused to follow him any further, choosing instead to return to the safety of the chapel, away from the threat of the wendigoes.

 _Huh._ Mike thought to himself, a small, hollow laugh escaping his lips, _I care more about that damn wolf than I do Em or Jess._ How stupid was he? How stupid had he been in the past?

He just ran away from everyone like a cowardly dog with its tail between its legs, whimpering as it pelted away. That's what he had done, wasn't it? He had protected them all, snarling and biting, but when the aftermath of his actions came, he couldn't face them.

 _"_ _Jess…Jess I'm sorry…I'm really sorry, I just…I can't be around anymore." Pain clawed at his heart, grief tugging at his heart-strings like a discordant harp. "I'm dealing with my own stuff right now, and…and I think you would be better off, you know…without me. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."_

Mike reflected on his actions, tears brimming in his eyes, once such a strong force now beaten into a crumbling pile. He had been so selfish, so heartless. He had been fine, right? He just couldn't handle staying with Jessica. He'd always feared commitment, and right when Jessica had needed it most, he'd made up some bullshit excuse to flee.

He was useless.

He was in pain.

He was without company.

Alone.

The snap of a twig wrenched Mike from his own internal agony, sending his head shooting up and a tear flying from his face onto the snow below, making a small dimple in the white surface.

Mike squinted against the flurry of snow that was falling, trying to make out the cause of the disturbance. He could vaguely make out the silhouette of an upright figure, but the shadows cast by the evergreens made it too difficult to pinpoint any recognisable features about the person.

" _Boo!"_ The figure jumped forwards, skidding on the icy surface to halt with a jolt in front of Mike, their face alight with mischief, glowing eyes seeming to radiate through the dark.

Oh no.

Oh _no._

"J-Jessica?" He stuttered, leaning backwards onto the frozen bench, a grimace quickly forming on his face.

This was the worst. He had been expecting someone to turn up to travel with – Chris or Matt or Sam…but not Jessica. Oh God, why did it have to be Jessica?

Jessica noticed her mistake too, her eyes turning from shining beacons to ones of shock as her smile turned downwards in a look of pained disgust.

"O-oh…Mike…" Her voice was dry, as if starved for moisture as she took in the situation. Mike couldn't ignore the looks of horror that her wide eyes were reflecting as she stumbled back in surprise, her feet becoming clogged in the thick snow.

In the weak light of the cable car station, he could see what changes Jess had really undertaken. Gone were her rosy cheeks and dazzling smile, instead replaced with scars and shadowed eyes. "I was…expecting Em."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, wiping his eye of the remaining tears that were stinging his face, "Em?" He repeated in disbelief. "When did you two get so chummy?"

It was hard for Mike to believe that Emily and Jessica were friends again. This time last year they had been at each other's throats, and given the chance, a full scale fight probably would have ensued. But then again, he hadn't seen Jess in a little under seven months, and he hadn't even spoken to Emily since last year, not that she would have wanted to talk to him even if he tried. There had been such a rift between Emily and Jessica that Mike would never have supposed they could be friends again after what transcended. But…that was also his fault, wasn't it? He had cheated on Emily with Jess, breaking the former's heart in the process, and causing the rivalry to bloom from what was once a good friendship.

Was he good for anything? Or was he just good for destruction?

"S-since…" Jessica hesitated on her reply, clearly finding the situation highly uncomfortable. She looked up from her wavering stare at the ground to meet Mike's eyes fiercely in a moment of defiance. "Since _you_ left."

A bitter taste began to form at the back of Mike's mouth. "Jess." The warning tone slipped out as bile began to rise in his throat, his instinct to defend himself rearing its head once again.

…But he couldn't defend this one, could he now? She was right. He had left. She had every right to be angry at him. Every fucking one.

Opening his mouth again to speak, Mike could barely utter a word before Jess silenced him with another glare. Perhaps she hadn't changed that much after all, but that was wishful thinking, and Mike knew it. He had stuck around long enough to see the trauma Jessica had experienced, and he knew that she would never be the same after it, no matter what pretences she might put forth.

"Jessica?" Another voice broke through the unearthly silence that had settled around the pair, causing Mike to twist his head to the side in surprise. It wasn't a voice he was familiar with, and he didn't recognise them immediately when he saw them silhouetted against the white snow.

"Y-yeah, I'm here, Dr North." Jessica's voice faded away once again, as if snatched up by the winter winds and carried away up the mountain. Mike witnessed the courageous light die from her eyes, and it reminded him all too much of when he had seen her broken and beaten after her affair on the mountain.

He thought for a second that perhaps Jessica was feigning her weak appearance, only to get attention, but quickly threw that idea out of his head. She was so clearly fragile, as if she could be beaten down by the flap of a butterfly's wings. Mike knew that he was still trying to find justification for his actions, where there was no redemption to be found.

"I hope you're not causing arguments already." The soothing voice was strung along the breeze as 'Dr North' finally showed herself. She wasn't too tall, a little over five and a half feet at best, her dark skin and monochrome outfit choice letting her blend into the darkness with ease. She smiled at Jessica, gently patting her on the back as she reached the girl, reassuring her that she would be okay.

The pair seemed in their own world until Jessica remembered the third new member of their party. "Dr North, this is-"

"Mike." The therapist finished for her, her welcoming smile quickly turning into a thin line, clearly repelled by the thought of the man that had caused so much damage to her patients. She stuck her gloved hand out stiffly for Mike to take, "A pleasure."

"…you too." Mike stared at them, dumbfounded. A familiar sensation began to draw near, as though it was creeping along Mike's shoulder and up his neck. Exclusion. Loneliness. The pair clearly shared a bond, and a strong one at that, and there he was, a very obvious third-wheel to their companionship. He wished he was as close as that with Jessica. Oh, but he had been. And he threw it all away as if their relationship had been nothing more than a piece of rubbish to be strewn along the sidewalk. How could he have been so careless?

 _"_ _Thank you so much, Michael. You've done so much for me…just, thank you! I love you so much."_

The words rang in his head, reverberating like a shout in a cavern. Jess loved him…once. Days before he had abandoned her, she had told him this. He hadn't known what to feel. He hadn't known what to do. Did he love her too? Did he care that much about her? The feelings closed in on him, suffocating him in their complex nature.

How much Mike wished he could turn back time, to tell Jessica that he loved her so much. He would never let her down. He wanted to make things right. Of course, that was never going to happen. It couldn't happen. But oh, how much Mike wished that it could.

It took all of his strength to stop another onset of tears from streaking down his face. Heavens know what repercussions that would have.

Fortunately, Jessica's voice broke through his melancholy in a high pitched, irregular tone.

"We can't go…we can't go up yet! Em and Matt aren't here! We have to wait for them!" Her face was screwed up like a child, but Mike could hear the desperation in her voice, innocence shattered unlike the youth which she used to be. "Please…we should wait, they'll be here soon, I'm sure of it!" Her protests continued, and Mike could see the pain welling up in her eyes.

The calm voice of Dr North easily parted Jessica's cries, as though her words were a boat calming a storming sea. "I already told you that Emily told me that there was a possibility of them being late. It's going to get dark out here soon, and even colder. Emily and Matt will just have to see you up at the lodge, because I'm not having my patient freeze to death." She ended her reply on a light laugh, intent on lightening Jessica's mood.

"Yeah…okay, yeah, you're right." Jessica clearly seemed satisfied with Dr North's arguments, although it was quite obvious that it didn't sit right with her. "We should get going then, right?"

Oh no. That meant…

That meant riding in the cable car with them didn't it?


	10. Splinter

**10\. Splinter**

"Come _on_ Matt! We're late late late!" The chirp of Emily sounded in Matt's ears, far from melodic, but not dissonant either; a shrill command combined with a cheeky laugh. "You don't want us to turn into popsicles, do you?" She teased, the light of her phone glinting off her shining eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, Em." Matt rolled his eyes at the other's incessant nature, already having dealt with it for the journey up here. "Besides, the sooner we get up to the lodge, the sooner I can get away from you!" He added with a chuckle, earning an offended glare from Emily. He was half sure she was going to launch a snowball at him, but luckily, Emily's main priority was getting into the lodge.

As they trekked up the worn path which glistened in the moon's light, Matt reflected on the events leading up to the journey up here, attempting to soothe the butterflies that began to flit around in his stomach.

 _The conversation had been lasting hours now, the length of the call being registered as three and a half hours long. Matt stared at the phone screen which glared light against the contrasting dark room, stinging his eyes. He and Emily had been attempting to calm and console a rather nervous Jess…well, 'rather nervous' was the understatement of the month. Jess had been crying down the phone in garbled hysterics for the first hour of the conversation, chuckling through the second before worry began to take over again in the third._

" _Jess! It's gonna be okay!" Emily's voice rang down the line, so blatantly tired, but she put on a preppy voice in the hopes of lifting her friend's spirits – something the 'old' Emily would never have done._

" _We're both going to be there too! You're not going to be alone! We'll have a fantastic time, the three of us!" Matt found himself repeating phrases he had told Jessica thousands of times over in many similar situations, but he knew that he would tell her them a thousand times more if he had to._

His legs were aching like hell as the pair reached the pinnacle of the hill, thankful that he had chosen to wear his extra thick scarf despite Emily's claims that he looked like a girl in it. By the look of the trodden snow underfoot, they were some of the last to come here. He could count at least four or five different sets of footprints. Emily had been right when she said they were 'late late late'.

"Ohhhhh, crap." A groan from Emily brought Matt out of his thought process, causing him to quirk an eyebrow in query.

"What, Em?"

The dark haired girl turned to look at him, a scrunched up frown on her face, annoyance glittering across her eyes. "The cable car, genius." She snapped, gesturing wildly with her hand at the car which was already slowly ascending the mountain.

"Ah." Matt breathed with a sheepish look on his face, reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of his head. He squinted up at the dim light that the car emitted, his mouth pulling down in a grimace. "Ah, shit. Jess is in there." When Emily gave him a bewildered look in response, he clarified, "With _Mike._ "

Fear flashed in Emily's eyes for a moment, and Matt cringed. Over the year, she had developed a fear of Michael, based on the near-death experience she had had at his hands. After a while, it wasn't even just Mike that Emily feared, but every stranger that they might run in to. Fortunately, Matt and Jessica helped her to build up her trust again…but there were some things she just couldn't get over. There had always been a chance that Mike wouldn't show, given his isolation from the rest of the group. Emily had been praying for that to become reality.

"…Rather her than me." Emily muttered, drawing her designer jacket further around herself, nuzzling her head into the fur-lined neck. Matt chuckled at that, letting his baited breath go as they watched the cable car climb further up the mountain. The faster it got there, the faster it got back, and the faster the pair could get up to the lodge. Although, now they knew that Mike was here, he wasn't so sure that this trip would go as well as he'd hoped.

"Come on, we're gonna freeze if we stay here." Matt smiled, gently taking Emily's elbow and leading her over to the door of the cable car station. As Matt reached out for the frosted door handle of the station, his foot was sent flying out from under him on the iced ground, sending him, and Emily, who he was still holding on to, plummeting into the snow.

" _MATT!_ " Emily shrieked, spitting snow out of her mouth, "What the hell did you do?" She didn't give him a chance to reply before she was sitting up and pelting him with roughly-formed handfuls of loose twigs and snow.

"H-Hey! Em!" Matt chortled, forcing himself up on frozen arms and rolling out of her reach. "It's not my fault! The ground is iced!"

"Oh sure, _Romeo._ I think you were just trying to score with me." Emily teased, throwing Matt a sly look, before throwing a snowball square between his eyes as he tried to stand up again, sending him skidding to the floor again.

"Come on, I'm freezing, Em!" He giggled, finally finding his feet like a new-born deer, and offering a hand to his still-downed friend. With a small smile, she took Matt's hand, hoisting herself up, and for a second, Matt thought they would both fall again.

With both of them finally up without calamity ensuing, Matt forced the door open, letting both of them inside the cable car station and away from the constant cold of the mountain. Once inside, they both settled down on the small seats that were stored inside, huddling close together to warm up again after their frozen misfortune.

Matt found himself smiling; a small, genuine smile, a rare occurrence in his life these days. He and Emily had broken up a while ago, it was true, but their friendship had blossomed again quickly, stronger than their relationship had ever been. They were better like this. Happier. He had expected Emily to be angry with him when he and Jessica had started dating, but much to both his and Jessica's surprise, Emily only had support to show. After the way she had used to treat him, she was just happy that he had found someone to make _him_ happy.

"It's…weird being back again, isn't it?" Emily murmured, leaning against Matt's shoulder, still huddled in her jacket. "So much happened last year, I can't believe we're actually back again."

Matt hummed an agreement, "It'll be different this year, though. No problems, just a good view and some peace." He stared wistfully out of the window, looking out at the towering pine trees, and remembering what had once lurked deep in the shadows. All he wanted from this trip was to see the others again, and to watch Emily and Jessica become stronger because of it. He wondered if anyone here had any concern for the trio, or if they all were just looking out solely for themselves.

"It…it was…" Emily's quiet murmur came from his shoulder, causing him to glance down with a concerned gaze. "It was our fault, wasn't it?" Matt breathed in deeply; Emily had struggled a lot with the guilt of her actions from two years ago, even after all of this time. "Josh would still be here if it weren't for that _stupid_ prank we pulled." There was a lot of merit in her argument, and over time, Matt had learned that telling someone 'of course not' or 'it wasn't your fault' soon became ineffective.

"Yeah, it was our fault." Matt conceded, gently rubbing Emily's shoulder in a comforting manner, "But we didn't know what would happen. All I know is that we all got our comeuppance." He couldn't believe what a fool he had been two years ago. Such an _asshole._ Following the mannerisms of the stereotypical jock to be as obnoxious and arrogant as possible. He'd learnt since then, oh how much he had learnt. He wished he could entirely forget what had happened on the mountain last year, and have a chance to repeat it.

Well…this was his chance. A chance to finally forget, to have a good time, to get closure, to end the guilt that had all been breaking their backs for years.

A sharp _beep_ followed by a large _clang_ made Matt's head shoot up like a bullet, looking round for the source of the commotion.

"Hey genius, the car is here." Emily laughed at his startled nature, pushing herself up from her sitting position and stretching her arms high above her head. "How long were we waiting? Seems like only a few minutes."

"Yeah, totally." Matt had been completely lost in his thoughts, his back popping as he stood up, suggesting that he'd been sat in the same place for a while.

With a smile, he followed Emily out of the other side of the station and up to the docked cable car, waiting for her to get the door open so that they could set off.

The pair sat down opposite each other, although both seemed more content with staring off into the evening's horizon than finding something to talk about as the cable car set off.

They were about half way up the ascent when Emily broke the silence, although her continued gaze out of the window suggested that she wasn't even talking to Matt in the first place. "I can't believe that the Washington's even rebuilt the lodge I mean, why would they?"

He grunted in agreement, "Of all the things they could spend their money on, they decided to rebuild a lodge on top of a mountain where their kids all vanished." His voice was lined with scepticism, as well as an edge of bitterness. "They should've left it. It'd be more respectful like that. With this, I'd recon they're just trying to get some publicity."

Of course, the remaining Washington's had been devastated, as any parents would be. But within months of the tragedy, after the police searches and failed rescue missions, the journalists had swarmed like vultures over a rotting carcass. No respect for the dead siblings was shown, only the hunger for the story was shown. Matt had half hoped for one of the wendigoes to have lived so it could tear the smirks off of the reporters' faces – quite literally.

The cable car jerked to a halt suddenly, and Matt glanced up to discover that they had docked at the upper station. Once again, time had flown by. The butterflies that he had been suppressing seemed to flap about in his stomach again, threatening to fly up into his throat.

A half-hearted smile crept onto Emily's face, her eyes quickly becoming full of grief as she surveyed their destination.

"Let's get this over with."


	11. Threads

**11\. Threads**

Sam exited the car and immediately drew her winter coat around her as she was buffeted with the mountain air that had only grown colder the higher they climbed. With the element of hindsight, she would have worn about ten more layers of clothing before coming up here.

As she waited for Chris to pull himself out, she watched as Ashley surveyed their surroundings, her eyes glazed and unseeing. Once, Ashley would have made up a story about all of the creatures and life living deep within the trees, frolicking in frosted glades. But now, the only stories she could come up with were ones of horror, lurking creatures and gruesome death, tales of anguish and suffering.

Sam inhaled, wincing as the cold, sharp air hit the back of her throat like a dagger. The sight of Ashley these days was a constant reminder of what all of them had been through over the year, not that any of them could forget it. Sam's heart felt like it was going to burst, filled with pain, after watching her friend – her _only_ friend – lose a battle that she was forced to fight alone.

"Shit." Chris' groan startled her from her thoughts. She turned on her heal, scuffing up lose snow, and found a small smirk creeping onto her face as she watched the blond rub at his temple where he had whacked it against the glass.

An uncomfortable feeling wiped the smile away as Dr Hill stepped out of the car too. Somehow, he just always found a way to make her feel unnerved. She couldn't help notice how his eyes seemed to glint with intent in the dark, focused fiercely on Ashley and Chris. Sam almost jumped out of her skin when he made eye contact with her, grey eyes boring into her very being. It would have taken someone with very keen eyes to see how the corner of Dr Hill's mouth twitched upwards at Sam's discomfort, as if he were writing down mental notes on her reaction.

"H-hey, Ash," Sam called her friend, hurriedly walking away from the psychiatrist's prying eyes, "It's cold out here, isn't it? How're you doing?"

The red-head fixed her with a cold stare, mirroring her environment perfectly, "Well considering I'm trapped on Death Mountain with some of the worst people I know, pretty great." Despite her low voice and hoarse tone, Ashley's fine-tuned sarcasm still remained an important part of her.

"Doesn't Dr Hill creep you out a little bit?" Sam asked with a small chuckle, although part of her was wondering if he could hear their conversation. She wouldn't put it past him after all.

Ashley gave Sam a quizzical look, as if she were wondering what had prompted the question. "Yeah, sometimes," she smiled too, casting a glance over Sam's shoulder to regard Dr Hill who appeared to be talking with Chris amiably.

A sudden gust of wind chilled Sam, sending shivers down her spine. "It's freezing out here! We should really get going." She shoved one hand into her pocket and extended the other one for Ashley to take, providing some slight warmth and comfort to the pair of them. Together, they began to make their way up the path to the lodge, aiming to get inside before they both caught hypothermia.

* * *

The walk had taken a few agonisingly cold minutes, but both Ashley and Sam had made it without any loss of limbs to frostbite.

"Woah…" Ashley remarked, staring up at the 'new' lodge with wide, wondering eyes.

"Yeah," Sam murmured in agreement to her companion's statement, "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed that there had been a fire here." Sam couldn't believe the restoration that had gone into the lodge. There was hardly any signs of damage on the timber that formed the support of the structure, save for a few scorch marks scattered here and there. The trees around the area were looking slightly worse for wear; some had fallen in the fire and some had had their branches burned away, but were otherwise growing strong.

"So, when can we actually get inside?" Ashley murmured, bouncing from foot to foot in an attempt to conserve heat. It reminded Sam all too much of the struggle trying to get into the lodge last year as well – they had all been so excited at that point, unknowing of what was to come. The mere thought sent a bitter taste into her mouth – she had been so naïve back then, it was only on that night that her faith in others was truly gone for good.

"I think Chris or Dr Hill has the key." Sam shrugged, already knowing that the lodge would have been locked prior to their arrival.

"Unfortunately not," the low drawl of Dr Hill showed that both he and Chris had finally arrived, "I believe that my co-worker, Sarah North, has it in her possession. I'd have thought she would be here already…"

"Great." Chris sighed, and Sam couldn't help but notice how awkwardly he was standing, as though he was trying to stand as far away from Ashley as possible without making a scene. _Good try._ Sam mused, turning back to Ashley who had moved to sit on the worn steps of the lodge.

As she swept the snow away for a place to sit, Sam noticed Ashley's whimsical gaze, a sigh escaping her lips. She knew that her friend was thinking about Chris – who was still standing around looking fairly lost – and she only wished she could offer advice.

It was so clear that Ashley was inwardly pining for Chris, but after what he had done, she wasn't surprised that her companion was left filled full of trauma. The person Ashley had been so desperately in love with tried to _shoot_ her! At the time, Sam had thought that it had been out of character for Chris…but then again, what did she know? Until last year, she had seen everyone as so pure of heart. But thanks to that night, Sam discovered the cold truth that lay at the withered centres of every person. Everyone had a dark core, hidden secrets, and disgusting motives behind every one of their moves.

Fortunately, she was ripped out of her strangling thoughts by the sound of thinly veiled insults and earfuls of sarcasm. That could only be one person.

"Jess is here." Chris commented, voicing her thoughts exactly. There was a grimace spread across his face, despite the laugh that preceded his statement.

"Yep! Yep! I'm here!" The chirp of Jessica filled the air, followed by her almost stumbling in the snow as she spread her arms in a dramatic entrance. The moonlight glanced off of her face, showing her radiant smile, but even a fool would notice how the light in her eyes was faint, and how her grin seemed forced and twisted.

"Trust me, everyone knows that by now." A disgruntled Mike appeared behind the blonde, a scowl painted across his face. "They could probably hear you from a mile away." There was a clear bitter tone in his voice, as if all of the resentment from over the years was boiling and brimming in his throat like a cocktail of anger.

Sam, Chris and Ashley all watched the scene in silence, and Sam guessed that Mike and Jess' journey had been filled with these spats. Boy, she felt sorry for whoever had had to share a cable car with them.

That person turned out to be a woman Sam had never seen before; short and dark-skinned, she appeared to be a decade or two older than the group of companions, and she looked extremely weary, probably from having to endure Mike and Jess' aggressive quips for half an hour or so – that would wear down on anyone.

"Ah, Sarah," Dr Hill broke the silence, strolling past the still-bickering Mike and Jess with a disdainful glance and up to his colleague, "I would have expected you to be earlier than this. That's always your way, isn't it?" Even in the dim lighting, his disturbing smirk was visible.

The woman – who Sam was assuming was Jess' psychiatrist - seemed unfazed however, "A pleasure to see you again, Alan," she replied with an all-too-sweet smile, "You've aged horribly."

Sam was watching the conversation with interest, inwardly rooting for Sarah to wipe the smug grin off of Dr Hill's face. The dispute was just getting interesting before a small noise from Ashley made her turn around instantly, her heart leaping in fear.

Ashley was staring at the new arrivals, pupils small and hands quivering violently. "Ashley? Ashley." Sam knew that Ashley was seeing something different to everyone else; a story unfolding in front of her eyes just for her to watch. Oh, how much Sam wished that she could see Ashley's visions so she didn't have to go through it alone.

"Loud." Ashley muttered, grasping at her hair with her trembling hands. Sam supposed it must be an odd change for her; after spending a long time with quiet companions and gentle atmospheres, having so many people – noisy people –around must be a shock to the system. "Screaming…"

 _What was she seeing?_ Sam asked herself, _Do Jess and Mike even look like Jess and Mike to her?_ Sam gently took Ashley's hand away from the hair that she was practically tearing out and softly pressed at the other's fingers and palm, slowly but surely distracting Ashley from what horrors only she witnessed. Soon, Ashley's breathing returned to normal, and the tremors shooting through her body were soothed. She didn't let go of Sam's fingers though, playing and fiddling with them as though she was a cat patting at a toy.

Sam didn't mind, in truth, she found it rather endearing. She barely registered Ashley continuing to fiddle with her fingers as she looked around the small clearing where her companions were now conversing. Chris and Mike were exchanging greetings – or at least, it seemed like Mike was; Chris was only giving small responses to the other's questions with subtle gestures and nods. Jessica was eyeing Dr Hill suspiciously, a small look of worry betraying her steely features.

A small thought crept into Sam's mind, pleading to be heard. Perhaps not much had changed after all. Jess was still brash, Mike was still arrogant. There might be hope left after all…but…

Sam slammed the breaks on her train of thought when Ashley suddenly paused in her almost therapeutic practice, refocusing her eyes to realise that the woman who had previously been sparring with Dr Hill was stood in front of them, a pleasant smile spread across her face.

"I'm sorry about before," she spoke with a melodic voice, her gaze flitting between Sam and Ashley, "I'm Dr Sarah North. I'm assuming that you're Sam, right?" Sam nodded, trying her best to match the psychiatrist's smile. "Then this must be Ashley." Dr North fixed the red-head with a curious stare, akin to the one that Sam often found Dr Hill having. Were all therapists this creepy?

"Well, we best be getting inside." The sweet smile returned to Dr North's face, "Come on you two."

As the rest of the group piled inside of the now unlocked door, Sam cast a final glance at the dark woodland, an overwhelming sense of dread filling her heart.


	12. Scream

_Sorry that this one is quite short guys! I had a lack of inspiration, but I wanted to get it out there! It was originally going to be longer, but I felt I should leave it on some happiness for once!_

* * *

 **12\. Scream**

 _Okay! Going well so far! Just keep smiling along!_ Jess' cheeks ached with her smile, paining her so that they could fall back into their usual frown.

Jessica had been preparing herself for the journey for a week or so now, unable to soothe the gnawing sensation of dread stirring in her stomach. Coming here was the last thing she had wanted to do, but her family, as well as Dr North, had believed it would do her good. She was less sure. They hadn't been there to experience what she had. They didn't _know_

But these were people that did. People all around her; Sam, Ashley, Chris and Mike, they all shared the horror. They were all bound by it. And, oh, how much she wished they weren't. Could any of them be trusted? Michael had been there for her, only when it suited him, dropping her like a used toy when he needed her no more. And she had heard how Chris had betrayed Ashley. If someone so kind could do something like that, was there hope for anyone? Sam and Ashley, they were kind...but who could say what the pair would do when backed into a corner? That's when you find out someone's true nature; when they're backed up into a corner, struggling for survival. That's when you see their priorities.

Jessica shook her head, washing away the thoughts that always clawed at the back of her mind - they were a long winding road that would only lead to a spiral from which she would never escape. Fortunately, there was some happiness to be found in the journey. Emily and Matt would come to the lodge. She wouldn't be alone through her journeys. The trio's meetings were few and far between thanks to the distance between their residences, and so moments together were savoured. The journey would provide them more time together, Jess was comforted by that.

The beginning of her journey had been less than pleasant, however. She had travelled to the foot of Mount Madahee with Dr North, who, thankfully, was a quiet companion who much preferred to drive rather than talk. That suited Jess perfectly. It was when she found her second companion that things predictably began to go awry.

 _The mere sight of Mike left a sour taste in her mouth. All the sadness that had built up over the months that she was alone turned to anger in a moment. All of the pain he had caused, all of the damage he had done, he was sure to feel it at the hands of Jessica's words._

 _From the off, the two had been sparring, throwing insults and put-downs as though they were snowballs. The fights only became worse in the cable car. Turns out being trapped in a confined space with someone you hate really wears on you. Although, Jessica had to admit she felt sorry for Dr North who had had to sit through the snide comments and childish bickering for a decent amount of time, but to be fair, the psychiatrist didn't do anything to_ stop _it either._

 _The rage had kept her warm as she stormed up the hill, kicking up snow into Mike's face whilst he walked behind her. That inevitably led into him taking a pretty decent lead of the group, staying far away from Jess' kicking._

The boiling hatred that Jessica built up over the walk made her practically exude confidence, reminding her of how she had been last year. But as the group settled down again, the crushing weight of reality fell again onto her shoulders, forcing a sigh out of her raw throat. The brimming confidence faded away into a small spark held in her heart, dimming into almost nothing, the heat of anger fading away. And for the first time that night, the cold winter breeze chilled her skin.

* * *

Jessica had to admit she was impressed.

She had been told that the Washington family had fixed up the lodge after the fire. _Boy_ they did not mess around.

The whole lower floor of the lodge had been almost completely destroyed by the explosion, only the thick supporting beams still standing. The second story had been missing a section of wall where the flames had risen up, and furniture had fallen through holes in the floor where the boards had been charred by fire. The under dwelling was the least damaged, only the stairs leading down had crumbled in the heat.

But now, well, the whole house looked practically unscathed. The floors had been completely stripped and replaced with dark wooden boards, finished with a sleek varnish. The damaged timber walls had been fixed up so they blended seamlessly with the remaining supports. Jess was most impressed with the pure sense of style that the house had. Everything was perfectly colour co-ordinated, and the Washington's had followed a very warm theme – a stark contrast to the weather outside.

"Huh," Sam followed in behind her, closely tailed by Ashley, "It's really not changed, has it?"

"Mmm…" Jessica murmured her agreement, "But it still feels…weird." No matter how much the place had changed cosmetically, there was still the deep-rooted sense of death that crawled over the place.

"Yeah, but I don't think any paintjob will ever get rid of that." Sam mused, flashing a quick smile to Jessica before walking off with Ashley, hand in hand.

She glanced over to Mike who was conversing with Chris and, judging by the vicious glares he shot in her general direction, he was talking about their arguments and how 'impossible' she was. Thankfully, Chris didn't appear to be listening, instead staring off at Ashley. A blind man could see that he was missing her, and Jess couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. She knew all too well how that longing felt.

Refusing to be defeated by her encroaching thoughts, Jessica cast her eyes over to Dr North who was staring around the lodge in wonder, as if she couldn't believe that the lodge had sustained damage. Dr Hill was the pure opposite; instead he was buried into his notebook, scribbling furiously with the occasional glance at the gathered people.

She sighed, her breath still visible even inside of the house, rising up to the rafters. Jessica moved to sit down before there was a small bang as the door in the foyer was swung open, colliding with the wall. A bright smile formed on Jess' face. She knew who it was.

"Em! Matt!" Jess trotted back to the foyer, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of her friends; Emily seemed to be shivering in her designer clothes, which evidently were not meant for warmth, and Matt was laden with both his and Emily's bags, but none the less seemed content.

She practically flung herself at the pair, wrapping her arms around Emily first; burying her face into the other's hair, instantly feeling calmed by the familiar scent of perfume her friend wore. Emily seemed rather taken aback by the sudden outburst, but laughed anyway, clearly pleased to see Jessica again.

After finally untangling herself from Emily, Jessica turned to Matt, her heart lifting at the sight of him. There was a moment of silence between the pair. Matt's eyes were so full of hope and love, Jessica felt all of her problems melt away in a moment. Pushing herself up onto her tiptoes, Jess gently embraced Matt, exhaling slowly as his broad arms wrapped around her back, pressing her closer to him. If Jess could choose a moment to stay in forever, it would be here. In comfort and in warmth. Together. Safe.


	13. Goosebumps

_I'd just like to say a big thank you to all of the people who have reviewed, favourited and followed this story! Thank you all for your continued support! This is a pretty normal chapter - we're not going to either extreme of the emotional rollercoaster, if you will. Speaking of rollercoasters, who's excited for Until Dawn: Rush of blood?_

* * *

 **13\. Goosebumps**

Eyes. Eyes watching her everywhere she looked. Boring into her soul. Judging her. Weighing her sins. Why couldn't they just look away?

How was this _happening_? One minute it had been Emily, Jessica and Matt reunited. Happy…she had been _happy_ and that was a rare emotion for Emily to feel these days. And then suddenly there were sets of eyes watching her from the doorway, creased in smiles or in frowns. Why were they all staring?

Sam's eyes were lit in a gentle smile, but Emily could see the pain hidden behind green windows, but there was no malicious intent to be found, she was sure of that. Ashley's wide eyes were perhaps the most noticeable, but she looked dazed, as if she wasn't even seeing the trio. But Chris was hanging further back, his eyes shielded by his glinting glasses, making his expression impossible to read. That unnerved Emily. His intents were hidden from her. What was he planning? What was he going to do?

Emily's mind had always been analytical, and now it worked thrice as hard as it once had, mapping a person's face, scouring their features for any sign of ill-will against her. It scared her that she would never know a person's true intentions until it was too late. It _terrified_ her.

She had placed herself so high above everyone else; her self-importance was the strongest thing in her life. She was blinded by her selfish nature. How many people had she hurt? In her heart, Emily knew that she was the reason behind their hatred for her. How many people wanted to see her get her comeuppance? She had pushed everyone away, distant from their emotions and problems. _Why should I care?_ She had always asked herself. And so, when it came to _her_ problems and _her_ time of need, there was no one to care for her, either.

But now there was. Matt and Jessica. They were there. She had hurt both of them so much – they were the two that she had crushed the most brutally above anyone else in the group – and yet they still supported her. They still wanted to help her after everything she put them through. Emily knew that she was blessed to have them by her side.

And yet at the other end of the spectrum, she was cursed. Cursed by _him_. And thank God he wasn't here right now, because she would probably have been a mess if he was. Mike had ruined her. He had scarred her. He corrupted her life and turned her on her head, warping her entire world. Trust was no longer something Emily knew the meaning of. She had once cared about Mike, but apparently he hadn't felt the same way. And then to rub salt in the wound, he had tried to _shoot_ her. What a great guy he turned out to be. Her heart almost stopped every time he was mentioned, as though the very whisper of his name would bring him back with a gun in hand. Mike was a source of horror to Emily.

There was always a twinge in her mind though, as she thought back on Mike. Without him, without her world being twisted, she would never have 'had her eyes opened'. Never would she have been enlightened to her ways. And never would she have tried to make amends, no matter how futile. Perhaps there was some good in the tragedy of last year.

She would never admit that, though.

Quite the opposite had occurred in fact.

" _He tried to shoot me! He held the gun right up to my eye! He was going to_ kill _me!" She screeched at the officer who was questioning her about the events of the night. Her own words vibrated around her head like a high pitched bullet ricocheting off of her skull. "Please, you have to do something about him. You_ have _to!"_

" _I don't have to do anything, miss."_

She tried so many times to get him incarcerated, put behind bars, locked away where he couldn't hurt her anymore. But had it worked? Evidently not. Her claims were ruled as a result of her hysterics and her trauma, and her case was not helped by the fact that Mike had blatantly lied when questioned about the situation, and Sam refused to back her up on the situation.

A small tug on her hand brought her back into the present, finding Jessica leading her through the foyer and into the main structure.

Emily barely had time to register the dramatic change that the lodge had undergone before her breath caught in her throat, lodging as though it was a caught cherry pip that she would choke on if not freed quickly. Mike was sat on one of the lounge chairs, staring at the now lit fire with troubled eyes, the flames dancing around his pupils as if he was looking into Hell. He may not have been, but Emily certainly was. Her own personal hell. Michael Munroe. A nightmare from which she could not wake. The flash of a gun, of his twisted face, an ear-splitting crack of a bullet.

Her breath had quickened severely, and her eyes had clenched shut at the imagery that her brain was producing as though her mind was a canvas on which footage from a projector could be played.

A squeeze on her hand from Jessica reminded her that she was not alone, coaxing her to open her eyes and to find the calm eye in the middle of the storm.

 _Logical thoughts, Emily._ She told herself, her breathing gradually settled into its usual fashion, _We're calm. We're collected._

She glanced up to see Mike still staring into the fire – if he had seen her he hadn't shown it. But then again, he always had been good at hiding his true emotions. A bitter taste rose up in Emily's throat, and she had the sudden urge to spit it into Mike's face. She was strongly considering it when Jessica finally dragged her away to sit slightly away from the hearth where Matt was already waiting, having a cheerful conversation with Chris who was standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Emily frowned, shaking away her first impressions of Chris. This wasn't a man who was plotting something. No…he was lost. She knew all too well what that felt like; desperately waiting for someone to help, waiting for that _special_ someone. Even she could tell that he was waiting for Ashley, but it was clear he would be waiting a very long time. His face was still pulled down in a frown despite Matt's jovial tone, clearly more interested in his lost love than cheering up.

"Just leave it, Matt." She hummed, the corner of her mouth pulling into a grimace at the rather down-trodden look Matt gave her, as if his cheer had been defeated. All the same, he nodded, and settled down next to Jessica, who was still casting glances around the lodge in an approving manner.

"I can't believe we're back." Jessica murmured, finally fixing her gaze onto Emily, "It feels so…weird."

Emily hummed in agreement. "It's good to see you again though, Jess," she leant back in the chair, which almost enveloped her in its soft fabric, "I mean, can you remember what we were like last year?"

"I don't think anyone could forget," Matt broke in with a chuckle, staring off into the middle of the room as if he was re-watching the spectacle from last winter. "You two were so loud I'm pretty sure everything on this mountain could hear you."

Emily had to laugh at that. In the moment of silence between the trio, she reflected on how much had changed. Were any of them the same as last year? They had all grown so much, they had all become better…well, most of them had.

But she couldn't deny the swirling sensation in her gut when she thought about who they had left behind.


	14. Visions

**14\. Visions**

Why was he watching her? Why was he always freaking watching her?

Ashley tried not to notice, she really did, but when your 'ex' has been staring at you for two hours, it tends to grind on you. Seriously, did he have nothing better to do? Could he not go and talk to other people? Just anything that didn't include Chris staring at her would be great.

She had seen Matt try to make conversation with Chris, but he had barely paid him any attention, instead letting his sorrowful eyes drift over her again. It was just getting creepy now, as Sam had put it, Dr Hill levels of creepy.

A sigh escaped her lips as she watched the small groups that were gathering throughout the room. She and Sam were settled at a small coffee table opposite each other, Emily, Jessica and Matt were conversing fairly loudly, obviously happy to see each other again, whilst Chris had finally chosen to sit near Mike who was now occasionally prodding the fire with an iron poker.

Sam was watching the pair too. "You can practically hear the awkward silence," she chuckled, smiling despite the gravity of the situation.

Ashley's lips quirked upwards in a smirk as her eyes narrowed, "Huh, I'd have thought they'd have a lot to talk about," she scoffed as Sam gave her a bemused look, "Y'know, they both tried to shoot their loved ones. They can bond over that." Sarcasm was dripping from her voice, sickly sweet but with a sour undertone.

For once, Ashley's snarky nature had returned. Despite the struggles she was going through, and the bumpy start to the journey, now she was settled, it was easy to feel the familiar vibes of the area come flooding back, no matter the odd sensations that came with them.

But she couldn't deny what she saw from the corner of her eye. No amount of laughter and jeers could cover that up. Every time she was relaxed, a figure would creep in at the very edge of her field of vision, darting away again as she tried to follow its path. Shapes would move in the shadows under the stairs, or in the darkness outside, threatening to spread and consume everything in its path.

Ashley shook her head quickly. _I'm not going to let this stuff stop me._ She told herself, feeling her back straighten with her confidence, _I'm stronger now._ It was true, too. After last year, her life had taken a turn for the worst. Hallucinations plagued her vision at all times. She knew they weren't real. She _knew_ it. But they still terrified her beyond reason.

But Ashley had never been one for isolation. At first she had cut herself off from everyone else. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want to hurt anyone. She thought she could get better without them, and then she could prove how strong she was. Predictably, that hadn't lasted long. That's why she had agreed to this trip. She wanted to see her friends again. It was too late that she wondered if any of them really were her friends.

She found her eyes dancing over to the door that she had slammed in Chris' face, watching the wendigo figure leap at him from behind. She had tried to kill him in an act of revenge. A pang of regret hit her chest like a well-aimed punch, but she couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that came with the memory. For a moment, she had had power. She had control over someone's life, just like Chris had done twice. She had true power in her hand, until it was wrenched away when that smart-ass punched his hand through the glass pane and opened the door before barging past her.

On second thoughts, it was probably best that he had done that. She would have been dubbed a murderer otherwise. And who knows where that power-trip would have taken her; undoubtedly down an even more corrupt and hellish path than the one she was already walking.

A frown passed over her face. Was it wrong that she had thrived off of that moment of control? That she felt no remorse for almost triggering events that led to someone's death? Yeah…that was weird, right?

"Ash?" Sam's quiet voice snapped her out of her daze. Ashley blinked repeatedly, refocusing her eyes onto her friend. "You were out of it for a second there. I was worried."

A small smile crept onto Ashley's face. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just kinda tired." What had she done to deserve Sam? The two had never been too close, but after the events of last year, both were looking for someone so they wouldn't be so alone. They found that in each other. Ashley thought it would be fitting to call it the perfect friendship. No ulterior motives, no secrets, nothing except caring and a shoulder to lean on.

"Well, it is getting kind of late," Sam agreed, glancing around the room to where Matt and Jess had both yawned in sync, "And I'm not too sure anyone is up for partying tonight."

"You can say that again." Ashley followed Sam's gaze around the room, her shoulder drooping and her eyes rolling back when she saw Chris still glancing at her over his shoulder whilst he talked to Mike. "I can't believe this…" she muttered, frustration slowly prickling along her skin, making her hair stand on end.

Sam exhaled loudly, as if she was slowly becoming annoyed with Chris' antics too. "Maybe tomorrow you should talk to him." She suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. At once, Ashley fixed her with a 'oh no not happening' glare, and she was forced to amend her statement. "Alright, maybe _I'll_ talk to him tomorrow. We do want this to be a good trip after all. It's not going to be fun for anyone if he's moping after you the whole time."

The final phrase hit Ashley hard. The constant reminder of how Chris still had feelings for her after all that they had been through. A case of unrequited love, as though their story was one such as in 'Romeo and Juliet'. The mere idea of it made her feel sick. She didn't want this to be happening. She wanted the exact _opposite._ To be left alone. Not to have Chris pining after her like a lost puppy…

Is that what everyone thought? That she was leading Chris on like a dog on a leash, toying with him? Is that why their eyes traced from her to him with odd glances and murmurs of discontent? Is that why Emily and Jessica watched and hissed words to each other, eyes never leaving the spectacle? Is that why Mike was always watching through narrowed eyes? Is that why Matt was always giving her piteous glances?

Ashley felt her heart plummet. And with that falling hope, it left her susceptible. Her visions started to shift and warp, her friends' faces started morphing into crow and vulture-like creatures, dripping with a black tar-like substance, mouths gaping as if hungry for her guilt and her sorrows, red eyes flashing the colour of blood to remind her of all she had done.

 _Drip, drip, drip._ The sound of black oil and blood pattering onto the wooden floor, staining it in a dark crimson as the mixtures flowed slowly to Chris' feet. He sat there in silence, his head slowly twisting to look behind him at her, the sound of his neck cracking as he did so.

"Stop…stop stop stop…no no…" Faint mumbles involuntarily fell out of Ashley's mouth, just loud enough for Sam to hear, but her gaze was wild enough for everyone to see. Eyes wide and white, face twisted in an expression of fear.

Ashley felt a hand rest on her arm. She glanced down. It wasn't clawed, or hooked, or dripping in blood. It was normal. It was Sam. She followed the arm upwards to her friend's concerned face. It was then that she noticed Sam was speaking – words that had been previously blocked out by the constant dripping in her mind. "Ashley? Ashley?" A quiet soothing voice. A rhythm. She could focus on that.

She turned her head and looked at her companions again. All were normal. Faces no longer contorted like birds. Chris was sat facing the fire, not even trying to look at Ashley at this point. _It's not real. It wasn't real._ But from the corner of her eye, Ashley saw the black and red mixture slowly slipping away down a gap in the floor boards, and again came the pitter-pat of the liquids.

 _Drip, drip, drip._


	15. Circle

**15\. Circle**

So how do you think they're fairing? Do you think they are content? Happy, even?

 _Yes…_

Ah, I wouldn't be so certain just yet. A lot can happen in a night…of course, you already know that, don't you?

What do you think people see you as, hm? Do you think they feel sorry for you? Do you think that they pity you? Or do you think they see you for the monster that you really are?

That's you, isn't it? All bite and no bark. You were quiet. You were collected. You kept yourself together. Everybody trusted you, but then look what happened.

Perhaps all of this pain is your fault.

You can't just live inside your own little bubble now. You can't just focus on your own life, and your own problems. In the grand scheme of things, _you_ don't matter. Do you know who does?

Everyone who deserves love. Who deserves to be looked after. Who deserves to be cared about. Do you really still believe that that's you?

 _Yes…_

Pathetic, isn't it, how you cling to hope so desperately? You lost your chance at salvation a long time ago, you should have learned that by now. But don't worry, you still have all the time in the world.

…After all, who's going to come and rescue you from this nightmare? You're just a monster. A sick, twisted person who hungers for the pain of others.

That's why you did it, isn't it?

 _No!_

Are you really sure of that? Do you not enjoy seeing others suffer at your hands? If not, why did you do it in the first place? Why couldn't you just live a kind life? Don't lie. You know that's why you treated them the way you did, correct?

… _Yes…_

Your tune is changing awfully quickly. At this point, are we even sure you know what you're doing?

 _Yes._


	16. Poltergeist

**16\. Poltergeist**

The night was going horribly for Chris. Now he was alone, the darkness was the constant of the night and he was chilled to his very being.

Yawns had started to echo around the lodge, like a giant, tiring Mexican wave only an hour or so after the groups had arrived. The day had been tiring for all of them. Sure, lugging yourself and your bags up a mountain was strenuous, but it was nothing compared to what they had gone through mentally that evening. Chris would rather have walked up and down the trail nine times carrying every person's bags than he would have gone through the complete mental exhaustion he had to deal with now.

Everyone had soon parted ways into various bedrooms (they were spoiled for choice honestly) and were fast asleep judging by how silent and still the lodge had become. But sleep would not overcome Chris, no matter how much he willed it.

The edge of his vision had been just about swimming in black as dreams began to overtake him when the events of the year came crashing down on him like a tonne of bricks. He had tried to clear all of his memories as if he were waving smoke away with his hands, but one foggy image still remained. _Ashley._

He knew for a fact that Ashley had gone into a room with Sam for the evening, but his heart twisted as he realised how much he would give to be in Sam's place. _But this is what you get, Chris,_ a small voice in his mind spoke, sounding as tired as he felt. _You fucked up, and now you have to pay the price…_

His whole gut felt like it was being stabbed and mashed, the impending sense of guilt crushing the breath from his body. There wasn't a day that went by that Chris didn't regret his actions. He had been so stupid. Given another chance, he would sacrifice himself in an instant. He would sacrifice himself a hundred times over for Ashley if he had to. He constantly fumbled for words around her now, struggling to find a way to communicate his feelings.

 _Not that she would listen…_ Chris realised as his head dropped back onto his pillow which was covered in a cold sweat. He could hear his heart beat thumping through his brain, deafening his thoughts. _She probably already knows, anyway._ Ashley always had been smart; smart enough to figure out what Chris was thinking even before he knew it. To be fair, Chris' remaining affections towards Ashley had been noticed by everyone at this point, but no one felt it would be kind to bring it up.

He just wanted to help. He wanted to help her so much. She was in so much pain. He couldn't bear to see her like that anymore.

But it's not like he could do much now. He was the source of all of Ashley's problems, and now he wanted to swoop in and save her like a knight in shining armour? _Yeah right…get real, Chris…_

The quietness of the room soon became unnerving, with only his thoughts to fill the void. Occasionally he thought he would hear a voice, or the creak of a floorboard, and in a fleeting idea, he hoped it would be Ashley. Of course, it never was. The noises soon became unearthly; creaks sounding like demonic groans, and he swore he could hear a wolf howling somewhere in the mountain range.

What really scared him was when the window started creaking. At least, he _thought_ it was creaking. _Tap._ Every few seconds, something would lightly knock against the window, creating a sharp crack through the air, as if a bird was pecking at it.

 _Tap._ No, this was just in his head. He was tired, going a bit loopy from lack of sleep. That was all. If he just ignored it, it would go away and he could finally get some peace and quiet in which he could be free of his fatigue.

 _Tap._ Alright, that was enough. The raps had been happening for at least five minutes now, causing a scowl to appear on Chris' aching face. He just wanted some damn sleep! Was that too much to ask? Apparently so. With a groan, Chris heaved himself out of the cold bed, muscles protesting wildly as he did. With a stretch, he cautiously made his way over to the window, a light sweat breaking out onto his face. Using his rationality, he _knew_ there was nothing to be afraid of; whilst there had been a short time last year when he had believed in the supernatural, those dreams had soon been dashed, and now Chris was back to believing in cold, hard evidence.

So why was he so _scared_?

With a trembling hand, Chris reached out for the drawn curtains and pulled it back quickly as his hands grasped the soft material.

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing there. With a frown, Chris pushed on the handle and opened the window, shivering as the cold night air hit his face. He looked around the area, but it was rather useless considering how dark it was, and the fact that Chris' glasses were lying on the bedside table.

With an annoyed yet satisfied grunt, Chris practically fell back onto his bed, leaving the window open and letting the cold air blow into the room like a refreshing breeze, purging him of all his worries and fears.

The disturbance had stopped now, which Chris was pleased with. _Probably a bat or something._ He thought to himself, not really caring, but pleased to finally have a shot at getting some shut-eye.

Not even a minute later, Chris was asleep, a series of low snores tumbling from his mouth. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breathing calm. No more cold sweats were forming on his forehead from nightmares or images grafted onto his brain. He was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

He had always been a deep sleeper, and so he didn't notice when something ricocheted off of the window, and bounced onto the soft carpet of his room.

 _Tap._


	17. Sleepy Hollow

_This isn't one of my best chapters, but I'm still proud of it none the less! Thanks for the support and have fun speculating ;)_

* * *

 **17\. Sleepy Hollow**

Emily awoke with a shiver. Her flesh was so cold, but her tears felt like liquid fire pouring down her skin. Every inch of her body trembled, quivering in pure terror. Her breathing was quick – too quick. She could feel her heart pounding, trying to escape the prison of her ribs, as if it was trying to burst through her skin. Her whole head throbbed, and her head was moist with perspiration.

 _Just…Just a nightmare, Em…_ The small voice in her head murmured. The voice of reason. The voice of logic. Something for Emily to cling on to during the worst times in her life. But even then, it had little effect on the whirling storm that had been raging around her mind, tossing up old memories as though they were debris, flinging her emotions around like shards of glass broken apart by forceful winds.

" _You can't be down here with us." The voice travelled through the air in a loud howl, screeching past Emily's ears, nearly deafening her. "You gotta go."_

 _No! No no, please no! Not me! I don't want to die! Not now! Not here!_

" _This is the safe room, Em." Words that she had heard a thousand times before, yet they never lost their effect. She cried in pain; in helplessness. "It is not safe as long as you're in it. Not for us."_

 _Please! No! Don't do this! Stop it! You can't do this!_

 _Bang. Bang. Bang. An endless echo. An eternal ricochet. Sparks that never died. And a noise that filled her whole head with the sound of screams._

 _Please! Please, make it stop! Make it stop!_

Emily buried her head in her hands, feeling her tears fall onto her cold skin, her dark hair sticking to her damp forehead. She couldn't stop the shivers and her sobs from wracking her body, causing her to screw her eyes up as tight as she could. She just wanted to be out of this hellhole. The nightmares that plagued her sleep for so long were now becoming a reality. She just wanted to escape.

With a wavering sigh, she gently let herself sink back into the bed, drawing the covers right up to her cheek as if she was pretending that there was nothing the matter, hiding her tears from the world.

Exhausted from her previous exertion, Emily could feel sleep start to overcome her mind, shrouding it in a dark cloud. Her senses were beginning to dull when there was a sharp _click_ at the window.

"The hell?" Emily muttered, looking up at the window, squinting in the darkness, sighing in annoyance when she remembered that she'd drawn the curtains.

With a grunt, Emily settled her head back on the pillow, rolling over to face the other direction. _Your imagination's going wild, Em._ It wasn't unusual for her to hear noises in the darkness; clicks in the darkness and screeches in the night often featured in her evenings. _You're probably just messed up from that nightmare._

 _Pop._ That was a new noise. Emily's eyes flew open at the odd sound, groaning as it appeared that it was yet another one of her fatigue-driven fantasies. With a huff, she brought her covers right up over her head, lying practically on her front, as though she was trying to distance herself from the noises.

 _Creak._ Emily sat bolt upright. She had _not_ imagined that one, she was certain of it. The sound was so loud, as if close to her head, her mind instantly flying to the image of a figure standing over her bed, their feet pressing against the floorboards. Her breath grew unsteady again, and she found herself wrapping her blankets around her further, comforting her with what little protection they had.

 _Thud._ She quaked under the duvet. That sounded like the door. What the _hell_? Was there someone in here? What the _fuck_? Inhaling deeply, Emily threw the covers off of herself and switched on the light, bracing herself for what she would see.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Emily scowled in the dim lighting. Was someone trying to mess with her? She wasn't going to admit it, but if they were, it was certainly working.

A chill suddenly shot through her body, making all of her hairs stand on end. The window was open, the curtains flowing gently in the breeze. "Oh my god…" Emily breathed, gently swinging her feet onto the floor, cringing as she heard it creak instantly under her weight. That was where she had heard the noise. _Oh God!_ She shuffled over to the window, frowning at the sight. She swore it was locked. Or at least, it had been.

An unearthly feeling began to take hold of Emily, almost rooting her to the spot before she slipped away from its dreadful grasp. Bundling up her pillow and blanket under her arm, she slowly made her way across the room, listening for more creaks and groans of the floorboards. None… which could mean one thing; someone _had_ been in here.

With panic springing up inside her, Emily wrenched her door open, half expecting someone to jump out on the other side. Much to her dismay, there was no one. _Who was in my room?_ The question played over and over again like a broken record that she was unable to fix, now forced to listen to the barrage of fear-inducing questions on repeat.

On quiet feet, Emily made her way across to the room she knew Jessica was staying in. Matt's room had been closer to hers, but seeing him in the middle of the night would have been slightly suspicious to anyone with half a mind.

Exhaling softly, she rapped on the wooden door before opening it as slowly as she could. "Jess? You up?" She didn't expect an answer, but entered anyway, closing the door behind her with a small _click_.

A tired groan came from the centre of the room, "Em?" The light suddenly switched on, half blinding Emily in the process. When her vision refocused, she saw that the blonde was rubbing her eyes and staring at her from the bed, a concerned gaze playing across her confused face.

"H-hey, I was just wondering, if, um," now that the moment had come, she was finding it much harder to find the words to explain herself than she had anticipated, "If I could…"

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Jessica suggested with a small smile, regarding her friend's obviously troubled form with worry. "Don't worry about it."

"…Thanks…" Emily murmured, moving over to the space beside the large king-sized bed that Jessica was reclining on.

She was about to settle down onto her blankets and pillow, already much more relaxed now that she knew she was not alone when she heard a small chuckle from Jessica, glancing up to see her patting her bed gently. "You think I'm gonna let my girl sleep on the floor?"

Emily could only manage a weak smile, clambering onto the large bed, unable to voice her appreciation for Jessica's kindness. It was certainly a change to have people like this in her life; before, she had been cold and brutal – she had found power in that, but then she became weak, and she found herself alone. But now she had Jessica and Matt, and she could not be more thankful for it.

Jessica switched off the light after a minute, and Emily could feel her settling back down on her side of the bed, hearing her release a deep sigh. She was probably exhausted. Emily lay in silence, staring up at the dark ceiling, unable to shake the encroaching thoughts from her head. What on earth had been in her room? She couldn't imagine that it was someone playing a prank on her – everyone was so shattered and fragile themselves that such activities might cause them to break, especially considering what happened _last_ time they played a prank on someone.

"Em?" Jess' quiet voice broke her from her thoughts, much to Emily's delight. "Do you…do you wanna talk about it? What's bothering you, I mean?" Was her fear that obvious? When she considered it, she didn't doubt it. Jessica could probably feel her shivers running through the mattress after all. "Was it Mike?"

Emily's breath hitched for a second, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. No, this was stupid, Jessica was her friend – her _best_ friend, she wasn't about to hide something from her. "Uh, no, not really," she was surprised to hear her own voice sounding so delicate and quiet, "I mean, I had another one of those nightmares."

Her speech was cut off by a small noise from Jessica, which was then followed by the other girl shuffling much closer in sympathy, gently touching Emily's hand in a sign of compassion. "Go on."

A lump formed in Emily's throat, threatening to stop her from telling her story, but in an act of small defiance, she swallowed it, desperate for help. "I think…I think there was someone in my room." There was another gasp from Jess, but she made no comment. "I could hear all of these noises, and when I checked, the window was open, and I was _sure_ that I locked it. And then I thought I heard someone walking across my room, and then I heard the door close…" Emily trailed off, realising that she had barely taken a breath during her painful explanation of the past half hour.

"Oh Em…" Jessica murmured, clearly trying to process the information with her sleep-addled mind. "I don't know what to say…"

Panic flashed in Emily's mind for a moment. "You believe me, right?"

Under the many blankets, she felt Jessica's hand wrap tightly around her own.

"Of course."


	18. The Omen

**_casket4mytears:_** _I also found that quite odd in the game, how Ashley literally begs you to shoot her, and if you do, she'll kill Chris. I think it's very interesting though and we can see a lot from it! I'm very glad to see you like the story! Chris and Ash aren't going to have a very good time in this fic though! Just warning you!_

 ** _IEatBooksForTea:_** _You already know that I love Emily - she deserved a much more rounded character in my opinion! I think she probably would be quite soft once that hard ice-queen exterior is melted off! (Forgive the pun!)_

 _Thanks to all of you as always!_

* * *

 **18\. The Omen**

Unsurprisingly, Mike had slept like a log. His exhaustion from the day's events had caught up to him rapidly, causing him to fall into a snoring sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He'd woken up in a groggy mess, barely able to put his clothes on and make his way down the stairs without falling. Much to his amazement, he was one of the first to be up, save for Matt, Sam and Dr North who was sat at a table, engrossed in one of the books she had picked up from upstairs. Matt and Sam were sat on the sofa, watching the TV, an occasional mumble being shared between the two, shortly followed by a light laugh.

He carefully made his way down the last couple of steps, careful not to trip in his shattered state. "Morning guys," he called over to Sam and Matt who grunted in response, clearly engrossed in whatever they were watching. Rolling his eyes, he moved over and practically launched himself into an armchair, joining the pair, instantly letting out a groan as they saw what they were watching. "Kardashians? Really, Sam?"

Sam shrugged from the other couch, leaning into the corner cushions, "Don't blame me, blame this guy." She jerked her thumb at Matt who, despite his tired eyes, looked clearly engrossed in what new drama was occurring on the show.

"What?" Matt protested, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face, "Jess watches it a lot, and it's kind of addictive once you get into it." His arms were crossed defiantly, staring at Mike with a glint of humour in his eyes, as if challenging him to protest.

Mike held his hands up in mock pacifism. "Nah, man, I'm not judging you." Well, that wasn't true; Mike was judging Matt nine ways to Sunday, but he wasn't about to bring that up now.

Despite the spats that had occurred between the pair the year before, Mike and Matt were currently on good terms.

" _Mike…?" Matt's voice rang against his ear as he picked up the phone, cringing slightly. This was the most contact he'd had with the other in seven or so months._

" _Yeah?"_

 _There was a silence from the other end of the line, leading Mike to think that Matt may have hung up, before there was a crackle from the other end of the line. "Hey, dude. Uh…" He sounded nervous. Why did he sound nervous? "Wow, this is super awkward, but I just wanted to let you know that me and Jessica, well we're…"_

 _He didn't have to finish the sentence. Mike already knew what he was going to say. "Nah, man, don't worry about it. We're cool._

 _He could hear Matt fumbling with the phone, about to hang up when a thought struck his mind like a bolt of lightning. "Hey Matt? Don't waste her. You're a lucky guy."_

The trio sat in silence for a while, save for the loud, high-pitched screams of Kim and her friends, until Mike couldn't take it anymore. "Honestly, is there nothing else on?"

Sam gave another shrug, looking plain exhausted. "There really isn't much choice at 6 AM."

Mike paused. "6 AM? You're kidding me." Why the hell was he up so early? It was so light outside when he woke up that he had been sure that it was at least nine. "No wonder I feel like crap."

Sam and Matt acknowledged his comment with a grunt and a mumble respectively. Jesus, if he felt like that, how did they feel? Frowning, Mike surveyed the pair more carefully; both had shadows drawing dark lines under their eyes, their eyelids drooping and breathing slow. "Wait, how long have you guys been up?"

Matt was the one who replied; "I've been up for a couple of hours – I couldn't sleep, to be honest," he explained, his hands waving slightly as his spoke, as if emphasising his point. "I'm pretty sure that Sam's been down here all night. Right Sam?...Sam?"

Mike glanced around Matt and saw that Sam's eyes were shut tight, her head lolling against the arm of the couch, clearly fast asleep. "Huh." He breathed.

"Ah. It'll do her good, don't worry." Mike glanced up at the voice, noticing Dr North standing over them, a smirk playing across her mouth. "She's going to need her sleep to get through this." She added with a sigh, staring out of the windows onto the snowy landscape.

"Maybe she's got the right idea," Matt muttered with a snort, "Sleeping through this trip, I mean."

Mike grunted his agreement. Opening his mouth to speak before creaks in the ceiling above alerted him to movement upstairs.

"Ah," Dr North murmured, "It appears the others are awake."

* * *

It was midday before everyone was truly awake. Mike and Matt had continued to chat whilst binge watching the Kardashians (which Mike had to admit certainly _did_ get addictive after a while), whilst their friends slowly worked themselves out of their sleep-induced hazes.

Ashley had been the first to emerge, immediately crashing onto the sofa next to Sam, but reluctant to wake her up, clearly not willing to disturb her. She had shown about as much enthusiasm for the choice of show as Mike had at first, but settled down after a while.

Jessica and Emily had slowly made their way downstairs together, speaking quietly before Jessica moved over to sit next to Matt, clapping her hands gleefully as she saw what Matt had chosen to watch. It was then that Mike asked himself the question how many episodes of this show could there possibly be? He watched as Emily drifted away from the group, moving towards Dr North. He pretended as though he did not notice the wild stares that would flash in his direction before she glanced away again.

Chris had come down last, evidently tired from the way he rubbed his eyes repeatedly, making them red and sore over the dark shadows. With a glance at the group, and a brief 'hello' to Mike and Matt, he had gone again, as though he had vanished into thin air. Although, judging by the clanging of pans and the use of some abominable language, Chris was getting into trouble in the kitchen.

With a groan, Mike heaved himself up from his chair in which he had been sat for so long, shaking his legs and forcing himself to move to the kitchen where the ruckus was still occurring. "Chris?"

"Yeah, hi, Mike…" Chris muttered, barely glancing at Mike as he rummaged through the cupboards and draws of the pristine kitchen.

"…What are you doing?" He knew he was going to regret asking, but when your friend is rooting through kitchen supplies like a raccoon through garbage, you have to show a little concern.

Chris sighed, but never stopped pulling out small dishes and pots. "Trying to find a container." He stated matter-of-factly, as though it should have been obvious to Mike.

"Oh, of course…why?"

"Because," Chris finally stood up, stretching his back before shoving one hand back into his pocket, "This came flying through my window last night." He slowly pulled something out from his jacket pocket, letting it fall into his palm and extending it for Mike to take.

It was a small white stone, about an inch in diameter, seemingly made from some form of marble, completely smooth the whole way round. He turned it over to see a small design etched into it – or perhaps carved was the right word. In the centre of it was a rough butterfly symbol. A feeling of recognition struck him. "…I've seen this before…"

Chris perked up at that, staring at Mike from behind his glasses intently. "Really? Where?"

"The totems."


	19. The Gallows

**19\. The Gallows**

She was exhausted. Her eyes drooped as though there were weights attached to her eyelids, dragging them down in a dull ache. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, barely taking in the world around her. Despite her earlier passing out on the couch, it hadn't done her any good. She had stayed up the entire night, worrying about what morning would bring.

 _She sat silently, her fingers gently flicking through the corner of a novel as classical music played lightly through her rather beaten-up headphones. Yet every time the quartets would dim, a noise would reach her ears; the sound of scuffling, small bumps and creaks in the floor._

 _On more than one occasion, she pulled out the earbuds, listening intently to the corridor outside, eventually shrugging it off as phantom noises you tend to hear when listening to louder music._

 _Mere minutes later, there were more sounds; lightly shuffling feet, small breaths and the pitter-pat of feet._ Maybe someone else can't sleep… _As much as she hated being awake at this time of night, thinking of spending the remaining hours with someone else made her gut churn. What she wanted to be at that moment was alone._

 _But still, she couldn't shake off the insecure feeling that had come with the sounds. The movements just didn't sound_ right. _As if someone was trying their best to not only stay quiet, but hidden, the sounds completely fading off every now and again._

 _The idea gnawed at her for half an hour before she finally decided to do something about it. Sam had never been one for paranoia, but when you're stuck in a creepy lodge with some terrible people, your conducts kind of go out of the window._

 _Much to Sam's surprise, however, there was no one downstairs, and no trace of someone upstairs, save for the small opening of Emily's door which showed the girl had been out of the room for a while – perhaps it had been her shuffling around. Shaking off the feeling, Sam had settled herself downstairs, finding that she'd much rather watch TV than re-read dusty old novels._

But now here she was. Normally, her fatigued state would leave her unreceptive to everything, treating her to a dull and numb feeling through her entire body. Today she was not so lucky. Apprehension writhed in her stomach like a trapped snake, twisting and coiling in fear and worry.

Today was the day she had to visit Dr Hill.

Thankfully, she was not alone. In truth, she was accompanying Ashley, because no matter how curious the red-head might have been about the psychiatrist, it was easily visible how uncomfortable he made her feel too, judging by the pale, sick complexion of her face.

They had paused at a door on the first floor which had apparently been Bob Washington's study when the family visited here. At this moment in time, it was being used by Dr Hill as a temporary office from which to work. Even just looking at the door gave Sam the creeps.

With a deep sigh, Ashley twisted the door handle and pushed the heavy door open, Sam's heart immediately filling with dread. She couldn't quite place what it was that made Dr Hill so unnerving to her, but he certainly did, none the less. Perhaps it was his cold and piercing eyes, or the thin-lipped smile that was always drawn across his face, similar to that of a snake. Sam couldn't help but notice how the décor in the study was extremely similar to that of Dr Hill's regular office, from the desk to the lamp, and the odd pictures adorning the walls.

"Ashley," Dr Hill's voice sounded from the opposite side of the room where he was looking out at the light snow that was falling. Well, look at that. They even had a window for him to dramatically stare out of as well. "And Samantha, a pleasure." He hadn't even turned around, and yet he seemed to just _know_ that she had accompanied her friend. Without a word, he crossed the room, motioning for the pair to sit down. Ashley complied instantly, whilst Sam followed slowly, as if there were spikes rooted in the cushions of the chair.

"As you know, I would like to discuss how you're coping so far…" Sam found herself distancing from the conversation, Dr Hill's low drone becoming a deep background noise in her thoughts, with Ashley's occasional comment stirring her slightly. Before she realised it, Sam's eyes were beginning to droop more than they had done for the entire day. Perhaps it was the dark lighting and minimal disruption that was lulling her into a peaceful state. Perhaps a minute or two wouldn't hurt.

Screams. Screams of pain and anguish, of loss and suffering all filling her head until it was nearly bursting with noise. Dark clouds rimmed her vision and quick shapes darted back and forth before her eyes, coming closer before moving away again, inhuman eyes rolling in their disfigured heads.

She found herself unable to move, rooted to the spot as though the ground was trying to swallow her up, trapping her feet first. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her heart thumping so loud she feared it would leap right out of her chest. All the while, the same two words spun around her brain. _Don't move. Don't move._

She gasped in pain as something barged into her from behind. Finally freeing her legs to see what had pushed her out of the way. What she saw made her want to be sick on the spot.

There, stood in front of her were three bodies… _corpses._ Flesh peeling and blood flowing from their wounds. Each one of them had attributes which easily distinguished them to Sam. _Beth…Josh…Hannah…_ But there was something wrong about them – their faces were nothing more than blank canvasses that were waiting for faces to be painted on, to give them life, to give them hope. They had been robbed of all of this. _Beth…Josh…Hannah…_ The names tumbled around in her brain as if she had been shaken violently, accompanied by the familiar phrase: _Don't move. Don't move._

Then it hit her. She had moved. The siblings had crashed into her with their sightless faces, causing her to stumble. _Don't move. Don't move._ A shriek pierced her ears – dry and inhuman, with enough sound to nearly deafen her. The wendigo. _Don't move. Don't move._ The wendigo leered close to Sam's face, causing a wave of shock to fly through her; the creature's face was warped in the shape of a long skull, like that of a deer's, with two long antlers protruding from the top of its head. _Don't move. Don't move._ The whole of the darkened world swayed before Sam, causing her to reach her hand out to steady herself. _Don't move. Don't move._ Within a second, the beast was upon her, lashing out straight for her throat.

"Sam?" A small voice broke through the darkness, causing Sam's eyes to fling open in surprise, a cold feeling immediately taking over her body. "Are you okay? You kinda passed out…again…"

Ashley was standing over her, looking down from where Sam was slouching in the office chair, an expression of pure worry painted over her pained features. Dr Hill was leaning back in his chair, arms folded and watching the scene unfold carefully, analysing every detail of it.

Sam blinked. "Yeah…I'm fine, really," she murmured as Ashley gave her a look of disbelief, "I'm just super tired. I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

"Clearly." Ashley muttered, taking Sam's hand and hauling her up from the chair, causing Sam to cringe as she realised how sweaty her palms had become during the dream. She glanced over to where Dr Hill was sat…or _had_ been sat. Somehow, in the space of ten or so seconds, he had made his way over to the window and was staring out at the scenery again, exactly as he had been when the pair had entered.

"Come on…" Ashley whispered, tugging on Sam's hand in an effort to get her to leave the cursed room much quicker than she was doing. Ashley opened the door quickly, dropping Sam's grasp and skittering out into the corridor, as if ecstatic to finally be out of the ominous room.

Sam was less fortunate however. As she moved to follow Ashley, Dr Hill's drawl stopped her in her tracks. "I'd recommend you get some more sleep, Samantha. You're going to need to be ready for the time ahead of you." Sam's breath hitched – what on earth could he mean by that? Did Dr Hill find happiness in being as foreboding and enigmatic as possible?

"Oh, and Samantha?" She froze again as she felt the psychiatrist's presence only a metre or so behind her. She could practically hear the sickening grin spread across his face. "I'm sorry you find me so, how did you put it… 'creepy'. Perhaps you would like to discuss that in a session sometimes."

With her heart plunging like a sinking stone, Sam shot out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind her.

 _What the hell?_


	20. Regression

_This is a super short chapter, sorry guys! Another interlude before I start what I tentatively like to call 'Act 2' of Totem Poles._

 _I am very interested to hear feedback on this chapter - lets see if you get it!_

 _Thanks for all the reviews!_

* * *

 **20\. Regression**

Tell me, are you enjoying yourself? Are you having fun?

… _I don't know…_

Aren't you glad you decided to commence with this game? After all, you had a pretty large hand in making it all come together, we mustn't forget that. You thought it would be good, yes? You wanted closure…I think everyone can resonate with that sentiment at some point.

But has it been worth it? All the pain? Everyone is hurting – perhaps that is your fault, do you not think?

… _No…No…_

Are you certain? Can you really be sure of that anymore? It's truly unlikely. But you would never listen, would you? You had to take matters into your own hands; you brought this upon yourself and your friends. Do you regret any of this?

… _Of course…_

It's lovely to see you're becoming more vocal. It certainly makes a change from the usual quiet whines and whimpers. You pretended to be so innocent, but then, you thought you could take another's life and toss it around as if it was nothing more than a piece of clay to be moulded and shaped to your liking.

 _No! No…that's not true…_

Oh? Is it not? It certainly seems like that based on the way you are acting. Are you too afraid to tell the truth? Are you _scared_?

 _Yes! Yes! Please…stop it!_

Stop what? You brought this on yourself, don't forget. Although, I don't suppose you can forget, now, can you? I suppose those images will be constantly floating in your head, dropping splashes of horror onto your brain with every second.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._


	21. It Follows

**21\. It Follows**

 _Totems…butterflies..._ Words tumbled around Chris' head in an endless cycle, his brain working in overdrive in a desperate attempt to solve the situation.

His difficult task was not aided by the barrage of questions that his conscience was launching at his mind, as if his own body was raging war on him, striking his head with a fierce headache. _Who made it? Where did this thing come from? How the hell did it get into my room?_

Chris slowly tried to dissect each query, picking it apart as delicately as he could. Mike had already mentioned that he had seen the symbol carved onto the stone on the totems that had been scattered about the mountain last year. Chris had assumed they had purely been some sort of tradition at first, but after reading the stranger's notebooks, he found that they had a deeper purpose – a method at which to keep the beasts on the mountains at bay.

But if the transcripts in the journal were true, there could only be one person that could have produced such an artefact. _No, Chris…that's insane…_ He had seen the stranger brutally killed, the image burned into his mind forever, and there was no way that his death had been elaborately faked as Josh had done.

 _Josh…_ Chris' mind slowly wandered away from the task at hand, as if dragged by his pained heart down a road of sorrow. He still couldn't get his head around it. His best friend had been lost in a night of horror, and no matter what the others might have said, Josh didn't deserve that.

He could feel a burning tear start to form in the corner of his eye, stinging his skin, and so quickly brushed away the thoughts, returning to the conundrum at hand. Once again, Chris found himself staring at the smooth white stone, his fingers tracing over the etched marking as his brow furrowed. He honestly wasn't sure where it could have come from, unless it was something left over by the stranger, or the Cree tribe that had once lived on the mountain. Both were plausible answers, which left only one question.

How did it get into his room?

At first, he had assumed that one of his group had finally found some of their spirit and was messing with him by launching small stones up at his window, as if they were trying to get a rise out of Chris. That idea was soon removed from the metaphorical table. No one in this group was well enough to even think about playing a prank on someone else, especially considering how well that went _last_ time.

 _Stop thinking about that Chris! Stop thinking about it!_

Another question sprung to mind – how the hell did whoever was throwing the stones hit his window? It was fair to say that the room he had been staying in was extremely high up, higher than he could throw…which granted, wasn't very high, but the point still remained intact.

So who the hell had thrown it? If it wasn't any of the people on the trip, who could it have been. Thoughts of Josh, Hannah and Beth sprung to mind instantly, before Chris wiped them away, as if smearing his hand across their blood, creating a bright red stain. In his head, he knew that they were all dead, but his heart would not let go, would not stop hoping.

His hands were still tracing mindlessly over the small object before the sound of the door to the kitchen opened and Mike wandered out, still looking rather concerned. In one hand he held a plate full of various sandwiches, and in the other he held two bottles of beer which appeared as though they had just come out of the fridge.

"You look stressed," Mike commented, placing the plate on the coffee table and settling down on the couch opposite, tossing Chris a beer which he almost dropped as a reminder of his clumsy ways.

Chris regarded the bottle in his hand before looking back up at Mike, a suspicious gaze across his face, "Isn't it a little early for beer?" He gently put the stone down on the table and cracked his beer open anyways, thankful for at least some refreshment.

"What do you mean, 'early'? It's like, four o'clock." He stared at Chris for a moment, a frown forming on his face. "Have you really been looking at that stone all day?" There was a clear look of disbelief painted across his face.

Chris paused for a second – when the hell did it get to be four? Last time he checked it was only midday. "Huh…I guess so. I just…I just can't figure it out. Where did it come from? And how the heck did it end up in my room in the first place?" A small weight lifted off of his shoulders as he voiced his internal questions. The noise in his head wasn't quite so loud anymore.

Mike shrugged, leaning back into the chair, taking a few gulps of his drink, as if he had been incredibly thirsty. "Are you sure it wasn't in your room the whole time and you just didn't notice?"

Chris shook his head firmly. "No…I would have stepped on it in the night if it had been." The space between the window and the bed hadn't been that large, perhaps only a couple of metres, and it was highly likely that Chris would have stepped on it if the stone had already been there. "And besides, why would it be in there in the first place?"

"I don't know man, it was just an idea." Mike sighed as he began to eat one of the sandwiches, looking rather satisfied. He looked as though he was about to open his mouth, but then decided against it as if he had nothing more to contribute to the conversation.

A sigh escaped Chris lips as he reached out to take the stone off of the table, but another hand reached it first. Thin fingers wrapped around the white marble and pulled it out of reach in an instant. "What the hell's this?"

Chris glanced up at Sam, thankful that it was her. God forbid it be anyone else – it became clear on arrival that everyone wasn't really a fan of him – especially neither of those weird psychiatrists. She was eyeing the stone carefully, tracing her fingers over the markings with great interest.

"That's the problem," Mike began, swallowing his food and gesturing widely with his hands, "We don't know. It just appeared in his room in the middle of the night… _apparently._ " His words were lined with scepticism, but not that of the malicious kind. More that of someone who had been duped one too many times.

"Huh." Sam settled down onto the sofa next to Chris, still rotating the object with great care. "You got nothing?" Chris shook his head in response. In this situation, three minds were evidently no better than two – or one for that matter. He had been just as stuck as this on his own, without the self-invited help of Sam and Mike.

"Oh, by the way, you'll be happy to know that creepy-ass Dr Hill has gone." Sam mused, a undeniably pleased look plastered across of her face, as if she had won a victory against the psychiatrist. "He had to go deal with some patients, and he mentioned something about some cats, I think…"

A wave of relief passed over Chris. Thank _god._ He didn't know if he could last another day under the piercing gaze of that creep. Mike seemed to share his view, "Well we'll all sleep safer in our beds now, won't we." Chris chuckled at that. "And speaking of sleep, how are you feeling after your 'power nap' this morning Sam?"

The conversation slowly trailed into Sam and Mike throwing quick jeers at each other, but Chris wasn't even paying attention by that point. He sat, staring at the powerless TV with dull eyes, but in his head, his thoughts were whirling ten times as fast as they had been previously, his thought pattern beginning to sound a lot more desperate. He needed answers.

* * *

Darkness filled his vision. A swirling, writhing black that seemed to grow and stretch, hiding ghostly figures in its path. A deafening nothingness surrounded him. Chris was depraved of all noise, sight…there was nothing. He began to hear his heart thump in his skull, and for a moment he feared he was going mad.

Then he saw something through the shadows, like a snake curving through the air. A harsh screech filled his mind, like that of nails on a chalkboard. A blackened chain, as if it had been charred in fire fell onto the ground, barely distinguishable through the dim lighting. Chris' head snapped upwards at another sound. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ Footsteps. Coming closer by the second. He strained to see into the darkness, but he could only see shifting silhouettes of things that were not there.

Perhaps he was going crazy.

* * *

Chris snapped awake from his dream. It had been so odd and confusing that it never could have been reality…but at the same time, Chris felt as though he had actually experienced it; his head still ringing from the metallic clawing.

Another two hours vanished quickly, as did the sandwiches on the plate. Sam and Mike had left after a while, wandering off to who knows where. Chris was still sipping at his beer, more out of habit than actual need. Matt, Jessica and Emily sat down a slight way away soon after. Despite their quiet tones, he could still hear the discussion. He had to try and occupy his brain with something else rather than this infernal stone, but nothing seemed to grab his attention – no wonder, considering the majority of the conversation was taken up by discussions about the latest TV dramas.

It was around seven o'clock when he had finally been forced to get up, his back and neck protesting at having been sat in the same place with barely any movement for the best part of six hours. His original plan had been to return to his room for a quieter place to think, considering the sitting area was becoming louder and it made it extremely hard to concentrate. That plan was stopped in its tracks as he saw Ashley and Sam sitting on the stairs together. Would it be awkward to shuffle past them? Probably, so Chris decided against it, internally cursing his own social ineptitude.

Eventually Chris had settled in a quieter corner near the larger windows and door at the back of the hall, his hands supporting his head as if all of his thoughts were slowly weighing down his skull, causing his neck to bend in fatigue. He barely noticed the snow beginning to fall quickly outside, only highlighted by the lights from the inside, the other scenery soon becoming silhouetted in the indigo sky.

It was not long after that he heard Sam calling him from the main entrance to the building. With painful slowness, he heaved himself out of his sitting position and made his way over to the front door, where the rest of the companions were assembled. He knew what was coming next and he had been internally dreading it for the entire duration of the trip so far.

Stood in the doorway was Dr North, wearing about five layers of various black and white coats and jumpers, small rucksack in hand. "I'll be seeing you all at the end of the week," she spoke, her eyes glinting with an unreadable tint, "If you need me, I'll be staying at the ranger lodge at the bottom of the mountain with my sister Dyani. I've already given Jessica the number for the cabin, so I'll be here as quick as possible if need be." With a gentle smile, she lifted her hand in farewell before exiting through the door, vanishing from sight in the thick snow.

Now here they were, alone for the week. Oh joy.

Unsurprisingly Mike and Matt had gone to get another stash of beers in their form of a 'celebration' at finally being free from 'Creep 1 and Creep 2' as he had heard Matt call them from time to time. Sam and Jessica also looked quite excited, Jessica's usual smile playing across her face, as if she had finally forgotten her fears. Chris knew that it was never that simple, though.

Ashley and Emily were looking less certain, no doubt sharing the same fears as he was. When he had been told the original plan, he had almost decided not to come. They were going to be left alone – with _each other_ – for an entire week…on a mountain…where three of their original group had met their untimely and grizzly ends. It didn't really sound like the best plan. But Chris knew he would have to grin and bear it. They were in no danger on the mountain any more, that he was sure of. Every wendigo had been destroyed in the sanatorium or in the lodge fire, luckily for them, and it appeared that the mountain was thriving again. In other circumstances, this would have been considered a luxury holiday.

As soon as Matt and Mike returned with the drinks, everyone gathered into their own small groups, eyeing each other almost suspiciously. Every group looked like they were at war with each other, each one fixing others with untrustworthy glances, as if now that the 'responsible people' had gone, everyone was going to start murdering each other in minutes.

Matt, Emily and Jessica predictably went and sat by the TV, whilst Ashley and Sam settled at a small coffee table near to them. That just left Chris and Mike, who, like the two sad guys at a party, stood near the stairs, not really knowing what to do or how to fit in. Well, it wasn't like they really _had_ anywhere to fit in at this point.

* * *

 _Thump._

Everyone's heads lifted in unison, eyes all flashing to the front door. "Who the hell is that?" Mike was the first to speak, taking a slow step forwards. It was almost as though they had never left the mountain from last year, the unnerving and fearful atmosphere coming back all too soon, as familiar as any other part of their lives.

"Maybe it's Dr North," Sam suggested, standing up to stand near Mike. "She could have forgotten something…" She tried to sound confident, but the way her voice wavered betrayed her pretences.

"Yeah…but she left like, three hours ago. If she had forgotten something, why would it take her so long to get back?" Jessica piped into the conversation, huddling further into the chair she was sat in, looking rather fearful. She made a valid point. If Dr North had gone down the mountain, realised she needed something from the lodge and returned back, she would have been back two hours ago.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. _Thump._ "…Maybe you should answer it…?" His voice raised in pitch at the end, making his suggestion sound like a question, and a very meek one at that. He very much doubted that it was Dr North, and although a part of him feared that it would be Dr Hill, that was even less likely. _Who the hell is it…?_ He couldn't believe this. A day into the trip, and stuff was already beginning to go to shit. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would have a heart attack before the week was over.

"They've seen us on the mountain…" Emily whispered from her seat, "They've seen us come back…" A vile taste rose in Chris' mouth. What if she was right? Someone might have followed them here. Who, he didn't know. But he was prepared to give them a piece of his mind…or, rather, he was prepared to let Mike give them a piece of his mind.

Jessica's voice became tinged in fear, "Maybe we should-" _CRASH._ In an instant, the door was thrown open, swinging on its hinges into the wall, causing every member of the group to jump back in surprise and fear. In the doorway there was a figure, nearly silhouetted in the lodge lighting. A long coat hung from their body, and something akin to a bag was strapped to their back.

"W-what the fuck do you want? Who the _fuck_ are you?" Mike shouted. Chris couldn't help but notice how Mike's hands danced around his waist as if he was looking for a gun. Chris wondered how long it would take before that instinct was gone.

Sam moved to stand close to Mike, putting on her most defiant face as she stared down the shrouded figure. She did not make a sound, but instead tried to look as intimidating as possible, although Chris guessed that that wouldn't have much effect if someone had come to murder them.

In a quick motion, the figure walked towards them at a brisk pace, clearly knowing what they wanted. That's when Chris got his first good look at them, his heart almost jumping into his mouth. A deer skull stared right back at him, antlers sprouting out of the crown of its head. The morbid sight was being used as some sort of mask for the person hiding behind it. He barely had time to get another glance at the intruder before they had stalked off again, completely ignoring the questions and protests being yelled at it by all members of the group.

Were they honestly that inefficient together? This stranger had just waltzed into the place and strolled right past them, and none of them had done anything to stop it. Oh boy, they were going to be dead by the end of the week.

The skull-adorned stranger had quickly vanished down the flight of stairs leading to the basement, with Mike in tow. Chris glanced upwards to see Sam stood in the same place she had started her eyes glassy and face pale. He desperately wanted to help, but there were more pressing needs. For once he felt a pang of relief when Ashley was at Sam's side, tending to her.

Chris, on numb legs, powered down the stairs, just in time to see cinema room door slamming shut. He continued onwards, reopening the door to see Mike sprinting down the corridor leading to the passage ways, the intruder nowhere in sight. Where the hell where they going? More importantly, _how_ the hell did they know where they were going?

Shaking his head, he briskly continued into the dark basement, forcing himself to keep moving as old fears and memories overcame him. Soon, the walls had changed to dingy dark colours, and the decorations were littering the floor. He couldn't shake off the memory of the ghost, and the incident from last year. Why the _fuck_ was he down here again? What sick, twisted turn of events had led him here?

"Hey!" He heard Mike's shouts and immediately took off, sprinting down the rest of the corridor until they reached the dreaded, dark basement rooms. Cobwebs streaming from the ceiling like dismal streamers at a party. The only thing remotely similar down here to a party had been the almost fatal trick that Josh had forced him to take part in.

He continued to follow Mike's silhouette and shadows, vaguely aware of a series of footsteps behind him – he guessed it was the rest of the group, but he didn't waste any time to check. He rounded a corner, almost skidding on the surprisingly wet floor, to see Mike standing in the centre of the corridor, watching the intruder break open the old iron door that lead to the mines.

As if it was nothing, the door popped open, despite being nearly rusted shut, and for a moment, he swore he could see the stranger looking rather proud of themselves. A second later, they heaved open the door and vanished into the darkness, leaving Mike and Chris stood in the corridor, dumbfounded.

Sam and Matt followed around the corner, leading Jessica, Emily and Ashley along. They all paused at the sight.

In the gloom of the mines, a figure could just be made out. The stranger was returning, large antlers almost scraping the roof of the mine. They looked as if they were dragging something. They advanced painfully slowly, and Chris swore he could hear the sound of metal screeching as it was dragged along the floor.

They eventually emerged back into the dim light of the corridor, the stranger's body language suggesting that after the exertion of the sprint they were fairly exhausted. It became clear now that they were holding something in their hand. A chain, and a rather industrial-looking one at that. In a moment, it flashed back to him. His dream, the endless tortured sound of metal scraping along the floor, heavy footsteps. It was all too real.

The intruder halted a few yards in front of them. That's when they spoke, their voice mostly muffled and warped by the skull adorning their face, but their words were clear and spoken with confidence. "I believe this is yours." With a powerful throw, they tossed the chain at the assembled group, sending it skidding just in front of them. The stranger shoved their hands in their pockets in satisfaction.

Mike heaved up the end of the chain, evidently confused about the situation. The stranger offered no signs of assisting them. That's when the chain began to move, slackening at their end…whatever was on the end of this thing was moving towards them.

The dim light caused the figure to be visible. Chris didn't need another moment to recognise who was on the other end of the chain.

Josh.


	22. Crimson Peak

**22\. Crimson Peak**

It couldn't be him…could it? How could he be alive? How could he?

But there he was, Josh, stood right in front of her, alive and…not well. He was drenched in shadows, but even in the dim light she could see blood smeared across his face, his black hair longer and sticking out in every direction. What had he been through the last twelve months? _We all thought he was dead..._ Realisation hit Sam like a stone. _We abandoned him down here. He must have been so scared. He must have been so alone…_

Her eyes kept trailing from Josh to the metal ring around his neck which connected to the chain at the back of it, Mike had dropped it soon after seeing who was at the end. The sight reminded her of a collared dog, constantly restrained by a leash. _What the hell had happened to him? Why is he trapped like this?_ All the while that her thoughts were running at hundreds of miles an hour through her head, Sam could feel the hollow gaze of the stranger lingering on her as if death itself was staring her down. Despite staying near the door to the mines, the deer skull was still visible in the light, casting an ominous presence upon the corridor. It seemed that the stranger wasn't making any attempts to be hostile, and instead was watching the situation with interest.

Every time her eyes fell upon the ghostly skull, she was tossed back into her dream. Visions of a faceless Josh and a deer-faced wendigo would leap about in front of her eyes, seeming as though they were about to breach the barrier into reality…but in a way, they already had…

The other members of the group were all staring at Josh with wide eyes. Mike was tense, his shoulders raised, and his eyes twitching with determination, whereas Chris looked rooted to the ground. Sam wondered if he had realised the same as she had. They had left Josh to die. Ashley was looking at Josh, unblinking, a mixture of fear and interest stirring in her green eyes. Matt and Jessica were stood side by side, both wearing similar cold expressions, whilst Emily was instead looking at the stranger, eyes narrowed in her usual calculating manner.

Josh, instead, was focused on the stranger; his head twisted side on, shielding the left-hand side of his face. The stranger was running their fingers against their leg in a repeating action, their foot tapping on the cold floor rhythmically, making small echoes around the corridor.

"Josh?" Sam's voice barely sounded like her own as she uttered a name she had long since pushed away. Josh' head snapped around instantly, alerted by the sound of her voice.

Oh no.

That wasn't Josh.

The previously hidden side of his face was horrendously disfigured, his mouth now stretching up almost to his ear, as if in some sick, twisted smile. His teeth stuck out at all angles, long and thin, covered in a mixture saliva and what could only be blood. Foul liquids drooled out from between the teeth and bloody red gums, and pale eyes stared curiously in her direction.

A shriek pierced the air, hoarse and inhuman, as if ripped out from Josh' jaws forcefully. His cold eyes scanned over the group, his head jerking from side to side rapidly, waiting for the first sign of movement.

Two words rang in Sam's mind. Two words she had heard much too often. _Don't move. Don't move._

She could hear the rest of the group's panicked breaths, and she could practically feel their fear radiating off of them. Sam's eyes caught Mike's. He knew what they had to do. They had experienced this once before, at the hands of Hannah.

A small whimper caught her attention. Jessica. She had suffered the most because of these beasts, they had been one of her greatest fears for many months, and now she was back, forced to relive a night of living hell. Unfortunately, it wasn't only Sam's attention that the sound captured.

A growl erupted from the wendigo facing them, clearly picking up on the noise. Tilting his head, Josh took a step towards the group, causing them all to recoil, eyes squinting and hearts beating in fear. Sam's heart was thumping so loud she was scared that Josh would hear it. He leered even closer, the creature only a few feet away now. Waves of rotten scents and death poured off of him, the few scraps of clothes that were still clinging to his body swinging with every pace.

Sam's breath hitched in her throat as Josh crept up to her, chain dragging behind him, making a sickly scratching sound on the floor. Large, pale eyes danced in front of her face, sticky breath falling onto her face from Josh's acrid mouth. Those sharp teeth were so close, his face lingering only a few inches from hers. Sam could see each cut and scare etched into Josh's now pale face, blood still leaking from some of the wounds.

Sam remained deathly still. Even though her whole body trembled, her instinct to live over powered her flight reaction, determination coursing through her veins. After what felt like an eternity, but was in truth less than a minute, the wendigo drew away, instead taking a pace backwards, head rolling oddly.

Another quiet sound came from Jessica's direction, causing Josh's head to snap up. He took a couple of lumbering steps towards her, the chain screeching behind him. _Don't move. Don't move!_ Sam willed her, seeing the blonde's face twisting in terror as Josh inched closer.

Jessica's fight or flight reaction was certainly not the same as Sam's. As soon as the wendigo was within a few metres of her, she sprang away; darting down the corridor they had entered down in a split second, faster than any of them could have predicted she could run. Josh's eyes lit up at the movement, another harsh cry escaping his mouth. He leapt to take a lethal grip of Jessica, his long fingers outstretched and ready to take a chunk out of her skin. Sam closed her eyes, ready to hear shrieks of pain bombarding her ears.

…But the sound never came.

Her eyes opened just in time to see Josh flying back past her eyes, the chain connecting to his collar taught. He was sent sprawling back onto the floor, right to the feet of the stranger who had the rusted chain in hand. "That could've gone better."

"You _think_?" Sam practically screeched, breath seething through her teeth, "You bring that _thing_ down here, and you expect it to go _well_?" Her fists were balled up, tightening so much that her fingers felt as though they were about to crack. Much to her annoyance, the stranger didn't look phased at all…no, far from it in fact, they were _laughing_ , their shoulders bouncing in a silent chuckle. It was all too creepy combined with the seemingly grinning skull.

"You think this is funny?" Mike broke into the conversation, his voice raised in a yell, "You almost got us all killed." He began to storm towards the stranger, clearly about to find a more physical way to express himself. And Sam wasn't about to stop him.

He stopped in his tracks when the stranger pointed a gun right at his forehead, still holding the chain in one hand. "I wouldn't come step closer, if I were you." The skull tilted, a grating voice pouring out from its mouth. The stranger flicked the sawn-off shotgun upwards, in a sign for Mike to move back to his group, back to safety.

Sam felt a wave of relief as he complied, taking cautious steps backwards until he was level with her. The stranger slipped the gun back into their holster, their body language much more relaxed. "And I didn't 'almost get you all killed'. I almost got that idiot killed." They gestured with a gloved hand at the way that Jessica had run off.

Resentment welled up inside of Sam. Jessica had been _scared. Terrified._ It was only a natural response for her to escape the situation, no matter how much disaster it may have brought. She opened her mouth to defend the other girl before she was silenced by the stranger again.

"Honestly, I could give a rats ass about you or your friend here," they gestured to the crumpled figure of Josh, who seemed to have been knocked out, obvious distaste lining their voice, "But I decided I might return him for you. In hindsight, I should have killed him the moment I saw him." The stranger shoved their hands back into their pockets roughly, skull swinging back up to look at the group.

The stranger nudged Josh with a steel-capped boot, tossing the chain onto the floor and turning around, walking towards the door again. In the doorway, they stopped, looking back over their shoulder. "You really should not have come back here again." Their voice was heavy and laden with bitterness. They grabbed the door handle and began to swing it closed.

Just before the door swung shut, a stone flew through the gap, skidding across the floor and halting at Sam's feet.

Red.


	23. We Are Still Here

**23\. We Are Still Here**

 _No…no no no…no…_

Jessica leant against the side of the staircase on the lower floor, staring off into the dark corners of the room, her eyes wide and her whole body shaking. Tears poured down her face, seeming to sting the old scars that had long since healed. Her fingers quivered as she tried to wipe away the salty streams, smudging her makeup across her face, leaving dark smears of mascara.

She knew this was a mistake. By coming back here, she'd sentenced herself to death. An endless pain of needle teeth and slashing claws, chunks being ripped off of her as if she was no more than some pulled-pork. This was what she was doomed to. There was a monster on this mountain, and it would kill them all.

Her scars and wounds ached as though her first attack had been only yesterday. Jessica found her fingers tracing them as more tears fell down her sickly cheeks, half expecting for her nails to be caked in blood when she drew them away. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to forget all of this. _Please, just let me forget…_

Jessica's breath stopped in her throat as she heard the sound of the cinema room door being swung open, instantly scrambling back as her flight instinct filled her head. _Run. Run. Get away. Go. You'll die. Run. Run. Run._ She feebly pulled herself backwards, finding small grips on the wooden floor, heaving herself away from the sounds. It was here. It was going to get her…Going to _take_ her. Not again. Not again. Please not again. Please.

Screams echoed in her mind. A discourse of shrieks and yells from every one of her friends, all in pain, all crying out for help. But she could not. She could not even help herself, could she? A deafening sound flung the other voices to the side, as if they were slammed against a wall, out cold. The inhuman screams of the wendigo flew around her skull, threatening to break it open with every reverb. _Stop. Stop. Please stop. Please._ Louder and louder, it wouldn't stop growing, layers upon layers of screaming. "Please stop!" She could barely hear her own voice above the noise in her head. Her vision shifted and bounced with the noise, and her stomach twisted.

"Jess?" And like that, the unforgiving waves, the ones that had swept her away, threatening to drown her in freezing waters, were parted, as though the voice was a small sailing boat, drifting through the waves like a gentle fish. "Jess?"

"H-h-huh?" Jess' voice quavered, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to stop her swimming vision. She felt like she was going to pass out. Her eyelids gently split open, causing her to squint against even the faintest light that slipped through the gap. Ignoring the burning sensation, she turned her head and looked at the source of the voice. Matt. He was okay…Matt was okay…

"Jessica?" His voice slipped through the air again, falling on Jessica's deafened ears. "Please tell me you're okay. Please, Jess." His hand reached out and settled on her shoulder, the sudden contact causing Jessica to flinch, raising her hands to shield her face. It was pure instinct for her. She did not want to suffer through any more pain. _No more._

She was silent for another moment, staring up at Matt through blurred eyes, her vision being distorted by the tears that were building up as though her eyelids were dams holding in water. "Matt…" her hoarse voice was quiet, almost inaudible, shaking with every second. "…Please…I…" Her mind fumbled for the right words as her fingers fidgeted with the scars running down her arms, drawing herself into the foetal position. "I'm…I'm so…I'm sorry…"

Concern was the only expression that Matt's face showed. "W-why the hell are you sorry, Jess?" His question was filled with bemusement, "You have nothing to apologise for…so, don't." Jessica heard a small shuffle as he settled down beside her, close, but not touching, his back leaning against the staircase.

"I…I almost got you killed!" The words tumbled out of her dry mouth before she could even collect her thoughts. _Murderer._ The word was flung into her mind by the dark nightmares that lurked in the recesses. _Disgusting. Pathetic. Coward._ "I shouldn't have been…been such an idiot…you could have all died, Matt…" Jessica's voice trailed off as she drew her knees close and buried her head in her hands, tears now flowing from her cheeks, onto her palms and flowing onto her arms.

"Jess…" She barely heard Matt's murmur, instead focused on blocking out the invasive thoughts that were prodding at her heart, slowly tearing it open, word by word. Each phrase felt like a dagger, plunging into her skin before being ripped out again, keeping her just on the edge of consciousness. _Please…._

"I just want it to stop." Her words were barely decipherable amongst the sobs that wracked her body; cries into the night for someone to save her. But she knew that salvation would never come. Not for her. "Just make it stop." Jessica's voice was muffled as her hands slid over her mouth instead, trying to stop the endless bubble of hiccups and whines pouring out of her mouth.

An arm slowly wrapped around her right shoulder, and Jess didn't even have the energy to shrug it off, letting Matt's hand gently clasp around hers, bringing it down and away from her face. His presence was closer next to her, almost pressing against her left sight in comfort. "Stop what, Jess?" His voice remained calm and low, desperate not to cause her more fear.

"The pain," she whispered, her free hand flopping uselessly onto her knee, representing the complete lack of motivation and power her body had. "It won't stop…it never stops…" _Never. Forever. Eternal. Pain._

She heard a small sigh from Matt, a sense of warmth filling her heart as he drew her closer to his side. Perhaps they both needed the help. She was safe around Matt…Jess knew that, but it didn't stop the guilt gnawing away at her heart like a flesh-eating wendigo. Her mouth was still tugged downwards, weights seeming to dangle at each corner, pulling her expression into one of utter defeat and sadness. Her head gently fell against Matt's shoulder, exhaling heavily as his head rested on top of hers.

It took time, but Jessica's breathing gradually settled, and tears stopped falling from her stinging eyes. Matt had been silent for the time, and Jess appreciated how he was willing to wait for her. He always was. He would never abandon her. Not like everyone else. Of that she was sure.

 _Liar._ The word crashed into her head as a sharp sting. _He will leave. They all leave._ Phrases were thrown around her head like they were balls to be caught. But Jessica shook her head. No…no. She was strong. She knew that. She wouldn't be here if she wasn't. In a swift movement, she pushed the horrors out of her mind. She could deal with them later.

At some point, she was vaguely aware of the sound of scuffling feet and hushed, angry voices, as well as the occasional growl, but she was far too tired to even care. Sleep tugged at her like an insistent cord, pulling down on her eyelids until they finally succumbed to the force, drawing Jessica into a deep sleep as she sat in Matt's embrace.

* * *

When Jessica next awoke, she was not sat on the cold wooden floor of the lowest floor, but instead was lying on a warm, comfortable bed, covered in layers of blankets. Pale dawn light fell through the window, and she guessed it could only be about four or five in the morning. _Plenty of time._

She shifted slightly to find Matt's arm wrapped around her waist. The feeling had become so familiar in the night, Jessica had not even comprehended the situation. Her back was pressed tightly to Matt's chest, her hands clasping onto his arm like a child with a teddy bear. She supposed that Matt must have carried her up after she had fallen asleep. _Huh. Cute._

Enveloped by warmth, Jessica managed to wriggle onto her left side until she was facing towards Matt; he was fast asleep, an expression of confusion painted across his face. As if it was second nature to her, Jessica nestled her head under his chin, fitting together like they were two parts of a jigsaw.

Here, she was protected. Nothing could harm her here.

For the first time in a long time, Jessica felt safe.


	24. Drag Me To Hell

**24\. Drag Me to Hell**

"This is so fucking stupid! I can't believe we're actually doing this!" Mike's distant yell shook Matt from his sleep, breaking him out of the comfort of his dream, and dragging him into the waking hell that was reality. His hell wasn't one of hallucinations, or nightmares, or monsters lurking in the dark, no, his hell was seeing everyone around him become shells of what they once were. As they began to break down, so did his heart, cracking and crumbling with every sob and scream. He couldn't bear to see any of them like this, not again.

More shouts echoed up from the main room, causing Matt to groan in annoyance. "Well what else are we supposed to do?" That was Sam. He wasn't quite sure what they were discussing, and he didn't much care _to_ know, all Matt was really focused on was trying to get back to sleep. It was far too early to be up anyways. Instead, Matt pushed his head back into the pillow, gently cradling Jess in his arms, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. If given the chance, he could stay like this for who knows how long.

Unfortunately, this was not a choice he was given. Soon more shouts filled the air, creating a painful dissonance that bounced around the lodge. "How are we meant to deal with this?" Chris' voice was barely distinguishable above the caterwaul, his voice hoarse and tired.

"I don't know! Why don't you ask Sam? She seems to have _all_ the answers!" Was that…Emily? It was so strange to hear her angry tones after months of barely a quiet word. Perhaps being back here had brought back the old her. Honestly, 'old' Emily had been extremely selfish and controlling, but she had been _confident_ and not afraid to speak her mind. That's what Emily needed now.

"Ugh…shut up, Emily…" Jessica's slurred mumble broke through Matt's thoughts, causing him to shuffle backwards a bit – a difficult task since Jessica was gripping onto his arm with all of her might. By her closed eyes and slow breathing, Matt guessed she was still asleep, only disturbed by the shouts that seemed to be drifting into her dreams. Matt sighed. She had been so shaken after last night, so terrified, that his only concern had been to look after her. It was his instinct to do so.

With a small mumble of an apology, Matt gently pried her thin fingers off of his arm, letting her settle back into the warmth of the bed as he pushed himself out, arms and legs protesting as he stood up.

As he stood and stretched, Matt saw himself in the full-body mirror, cringing at the sight; he was still wearing the clothes from last night which were covered in dust from the lower floors. Eye bags drooped from his eyes as though his skin had been stretched and discoloured. He looked so…different. It was as if staring into another reality where another version of him resided, so varying in appearance, but were nonetheless the same person.

Grunting in mild annoyance, Matt reached over to the suitcase that was laying on the floor, clothes strewn out of it at every angle. His vision shifted over to the large closet at the side of the room – he should probably organise his stuff at some point, just…not right now. He pulled out an old blue shirt with a small football in the top left corner and pulled it on, discarding his other shirt back onto the pile. He glanced again in the mirror, his pants didn't look so bad, they were slightly dirty, but they would do… _I'll make more of an effort tomorrow._

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Matt left the room and made sure to close the door softly behind him, as so not to wake the sleeping Jessica. He barely made a sound as he wandered downstairs, grimacing as the bickering of his companions became louder and louder. Sam and Mike were stood at the foot of the stairs, and by the anger carved onto their faces, they were in a heated battle. Emily was watching them with crossed arms, a scowl playing over her brow, as if she couldn't believe that everyone was acting so stupidly.

"Can you all _shut up_?" Chris' voice came from just to the left of the stairs, annoyance lining each word. He sounded confident, but at the same time, Matt could detect a quaver of fear running through each syllable. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when he heard a low noise, almost like the growl of a dog, but the sound reverberated around his head, making his skull pound.

He had forgotten about that.

Matt noticed there was a rusted chain secured tightly to one of the structural pillars, and every so often, it would grow taught like something was pulling it, seeming as though it would snap before it slackened against the floor again with a _clink_. The rest of the chain was out of view, stretching around the back of the sets of stairs towards where the noise had come from, and where Chris was dawdling near. He slowly approached Sam and Mike on silent feet. "…Hey guys."

Both of their heads snapped around to face him in an instant, ferocity blazing in their eyes. "Hey man," Mike was the first to greet him, clearly trying to keep the anger in his voice under control. For a second, a wave of relief passed over Matt – the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into this fight. "…Can you please tell Sam that her plan is going to get us all killed?" _Spoke too soon._

Matt's brow furrowed in confusion, "What plan?" He had no clue of what had happened after he had taken off after Jessica, only having heard snippets of the heated conversation in the night.

Mike looked exasperated, raising one hand and massaging his temples in frustration, "Sam thinks that we should keep that fucking _monster_ here until it eats us all." Bitterness had risen up in his voice again, as if he were spitting poison at Sam.

Sam was equally as irritated with Mike, it seemed. "That is _not_ my plan, and you know it, Mike." Her words were lined with barbs, as if she was daring Mike to say another thing against her. Slowly, she lowered her voice, collecting her thoughts to explain herself without aggression. "All I said was that we should wait and see what happens. We don't know what happened to him. We don't know if that weird skull person will come back."

Matt had to admit that she made a fair point. He doubted that the stranger they had encountered the night prior would have dumped a wendigo on their hands if there hadn't been a reason for it. He wasn't quite sure why, but they had seemed decisive in their actions, as if every movement had had a purpose.

"They're not _going_ to come back! They just landed us with a wendigo and took off!" Mike looked at the pair in disbelief, "We're all going to end up in deep shit because of this." Without another word, he took off, storming off towards the kitchen, his shoulders tense and his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Sam stared after him, shaking her head. "What do you think, Matt?" She turned back to him, the light dying from her eyes. Now that the spark of rage had gone, Sam had exerted herself, her eyes creased in exhaustion. "What should we do?"

"I don't know," Matt answered with a sigh, "I think we'll have to wait it out. We don't know what's going to happen." He could see that what Sam needed at the moment was reassurance, otherwise she would probably collapse from stress. "Were you up all night? Again?"

Sam blinked at him slowly, "No…I got a couple of hours… but it's hard to sleep with a wendigo downstairs anyhow." She paused for a moment, wiping sleep from her eyes. "If you're going to stay down here, would you mind keeping an eye on things? Everyone's going a little crazy."

"Trust me, I know. Perhaps you guys should yell a little louder next time, I don't think the rest of the mountain quite heard you." Sam gave a small smile in response, although she was clearly too tired to even speak at this point. Matt gave her a nod in farewell as she moved to pass him.

As she ascended the stairs, Matt saw Emily waving him over to the couch, and he was all too glad to sit down now that the endless yelling was over. "Hey, Em." Her cheeks were pulled upwards in a small smile, but her eyes were dull and red through lack of sleep. "You doing okay?"

She nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'm good. Is Jess still asleep?" Matt couldn't help but notice how the passion he had heard her speak with had burned out, leaving her a cold shell once again.

A breathless laugh escaped his lips, "Yeah, and I think you should be too. Did anyone get any sleep last night?"

"Mm," Emily hummed her agreement, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, "Well, someone has to keep order around here. What, with Chris throwing tantrums and Sam and Mike being at each other's throats the whole night." She seemed rather agitated despite her usual scorn, throwing the occasional glance over to where Chris was standing.

The pair sat in silence for a while, the only noise being faint _clank_ s in the kitchen, and the occasional _tink_ of the chain as it shifted slightly. Matt felt sick every time he heard that ghastly noise. There was no way that he could bring himself to face what was on the end of it. He had failed to protect all of his friends, and that pained his heart every day. At first, he tried to ignore the feeling when they thought that Josh was dead, bottling it up and storing it away in the back of his mind. But now…now they had discovered that Josh had suffered through something perhaps far worse than death. And where had he been? Not damn there, that was for sure.

Another coarse growl flew through the air, like sandpaper on metal. It pushed Matt away from his thoughts, sending him flying back into the present. Emily was fast asleep on the couch next to him, apparently far too tired to care about the noises that rang through his brain.

Matt forced himself to stand up, and began to make his way over to where Chris was sitting, head in hands. Every cell in his body screamed at him to turn back, and to avoid the situation at hand. But Matt could never do that. Not when he'd let Josh down so many times before.

"Hey," Matt greeted Chris with a small nod, grimacing at Chris' state: he was covered in flecks of blood, presumably Josh's, and his face was dishevelled in not only fatigue, but in immense sadness. If Matt felt terrible, he could not even begin to fathom what Chris was feeling, seeing his best friend turned into a monster.

Chris only looked up in response, his blue eyes red and creased, his glasses lying on the seat next to him. A small groan was audible from the blond as the chain clinked again, dragging across the floor, coupled with the sound of scratching feet and nails against wood. Matt glanced over and saw a figure shuffling in the darkness, crouched and inhuman, a low growl resonating from the area like a discordant instrument, ringing in his ears. Chris' head was in his hands again, his eyes covered and hands shaking wildly. Everyone here was in a worst state than they had been for a long long time. This trip was only serving as a horrible reminder of what their lives had come to.

Another growl drew him away from Chris, his feet betraying his mind, slowly moving him over to what lay at the end of the chain. His foot nudged the chain as he walked, causing a loud _clink_. Instantly, Josh turned around. And oh boy, he looked worse in the daylight.

He was perched on the railings of the lower stairs, akin to some sort of monkey, staring at Matt with large glassy white eyes. Josh' hands and feet gripped onto the wood with such strength that it was beginning to splinter beneath his hands. His teeth dripped with a pale pink liquid, making a continuous _tap_ onto the floorboards, like a slow rain. Of course, if this rained on you, people would be screaming in terror. Josh's hair had grown longer, just about chin length, wild and uncombed, clotted with what could only be blood.

Slowly and surely, Josh inched his way along the railing until he was just a few yards away from Matt, twisting his head as he parted his jaws, another growl building in his throat. Matt found himself rooted to the spot, fear passing over him in relentless waves. He started squeezing on his fingers – a form of nervous habit he had developed over the years – fiddling with his hands.

Matt frowned as Josh's sightless eyes seemed to focus on that, leering forwards, his ghastly breath rattling in his lungs. Matt could see him even better now; scars littered his face, some still covered in dried blood. His skin was pale and almost seemed to be peeling off at the edges, as though it was nothing more than old wallpaper from a wall. He was so damaged. So full of pain.

 _I'm sorry, Josh._

 _I'm sorry._


	25. What We Do in the Shadows

_**PLEASE READ:**_ _ **I just updated CHAPTER 21 with an extra dream sequence, and some other details later on. It's not too essential to the story, and will be covered again later, but it is recommended that you check it out!**_

 _I hope you all like this chapter, because we once again see the return of a not-so-friendly skull._

* * *

 **25\. What We Do in the Shadows**

 _I can't fucking believe this. Are they all nutty? This was going to end in disaster, and he knew it._

Mike was sat on one of the stools in the kitchen, elbows propped up on the counter so he could massage his temples. Frustration seemed to be permanently grafted onto his face, his jawline almost trembling from how hard he was grinding his teeth together. He was so _angry_. He was angry at _everyone._

How could this be happening? He had seen Josh dragged into the mines by the creature that had once been Hannah, and now…he was back? No…no, this was impossible. He must be the crazy one, right?

But no matter how much Mike willed the whole event to be some figment of his imagination, he knew that it was so much more than that. Like a ghostly spider climbing up his leg, the reality of the situation reached him. This was not some dream, or, more accurately, some nightmare, but real life. A living world in which he had fucked everything up.

Mike was angry at everyone, but most of all, he was angry at _himself._

This was his entire fault. If he hadn't been so stupid, Josh might still have been alive. He just _assumed_ that Josh was dead, but evidently he wasn't. If he had been braver, he could have gone back and rescued his friend, rather than hiding when Josh was stolen away into a life of misery. What had he faced in the mines? Was his ordeal much like his sister's? Slowly starving, slowly going mad for months? Mike pushed the thoughts from his head, but they quickly came back, like a rubber ball bounced against a wall.

But a flicker of hope still welled inside of his heart, a small spark that was protected by his thick skin. If Josh had been living as a cannibal, a _monster_ , for a year, he would have ended up like Hannah, or at least one of the wendigoes from the sanatorium. But Josh was far from that. Only partially transformed, teeth not fully sharpened and fingers not efficiently elongated, his eyes still flashing as though there was some sight left to them. How…?

A sigh fell from his lips, as if pushed out by his ribcage, letting loose a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. It had to have something with that freak. The person adorned in the morbid deer-skull. Who the hell was that? They could clearly not be the stranger from last year, who had been murdered by a swift claw to the neck – it was far too small to be him anyways. Whoever it was seemed to be rather short, but it was difficult to tell considering how many layers of coats, jumpers and other protection they were wearing.

 _Ugh. You're too tired for this, Mikey._ It was true, he hadn't slept the whole night, instead, he and Sam had debated over what to do with their now wendigo-ed companion, although 'debated' may not have been the right word. Josh had woken up at around one in the morning, cutting off their argument for a while with angered screams and a constant tugging at the chain. After a while, he had seemed to get it into his foggy brain that he wasn't going anywhere, and had settled down again.

As Mike reflected on the night before, he found his fingers gripping the small red stone that he had been storing in the chest pocket of his tattered jacket, having taken it when the others were struggling to deal with the creature that had lain before them. Like the one Chris had discovered, it was smooth, and the butterfly design was cut cleanly into the stone, as if done by a precise machine. At least they knew who was responsible for it now. One less mystery guarded by the mountain.

Mike gently set the red stone down onto the counter on front of him, folding his arms flat against the surface and settling his head in the nest-like shape it provided. He contemplated everything that had happened, his eyes and face aching dully, slowly but surely pulling him into a deep sleep.

 _Crack._ A deafening sound, like thousands of bones being snapped in a moment. Like a tree being toppled by an inhuman force. It filled Mike's skull to the brim. _Crack. Crack. Crack._ The sound repeated layers upon layers of noise. Endless, eternal noise.

All he could see was red. At first he thought everything around him was red, but then his eyes began to sting. Blood was pouring into them like a river, a searing pain cast over his forehead, the warm streams flowing down and into his eyes.

He couldn't see. He was blind. He couldn't see what was coming.

He could only hear it.

Screams. Everywhere. It wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop. Please stop. Please.

"STOP."

Mike awoke in a cold sweat, desperately scrabbling at his eyes, trying to clear away blood that wasn't there. He reached up to find where the gash in his head had been, only to find a drumming pain, but no actual mark. _What the fuck?_ His fingers only found beads of moisture running down his face.

Mike took a shaky breath, raising his head out of his arms, his whole body quivering. He hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. He looked in front of himself to see the small red stone still there. Red, the colour of blood. _Crack. Crack. Crack._ The noise filled his head again, ghostly and eerie, only partially there, like a silent whisper brought to him on the howling wind.

He dragged his hands down his face, practically clawing at his own skin, pulling his eyes down at the corner, wiping the tears away. By the darkness of the room, he assumed it was extremely late. He couldn't see anything outside, save for the moon – even the security lights had turned off. He was about to push himself off of his stool when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Pleasant dream?" He froze. It was that voice again. Mike desperately squinted about the kitchen, his eyes only just catching onto a white shape lit up by the moon's beam. One elongated face and two protruding horns. Not again.

Mike fumbled for words, his tongue tripping over each phrase he tried to muster. Why was this happening? His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, now able to make out the stranger leaning against the far wall, arms crossed as if they were completely at home in the lodge, entirely relaxed.

"What the fuck are you doing here again?" Each word was pronounced with definition, every syllable dripping in venom. Mike had found his voice once again, and he wasn't about to make a very pleasant speech. "If you don't get out this fucking second, I'll-"

"What?" The stranger asked, their voice still reverberating off of the inside of the skull, making it seem as though their speech was coming from everywhere at once. "I don't really care for threats, but humour me if you want." They shrugged, skull bouncing slightly as they did. Mike paused again; there was no doubt that he was at a serious disadvantage here. "Wendigo got your tongue?"

A thought flashed to mind – it wasn't a very brave method of confrontation, but it would certainly give him the upper hand. He opened his mouth to call for someone, anyone to help him.

But in an instant, the stranger was in front before Mike could utter a sound, leering at him through the skull mask. "Bad move." Their speech was more clear up close; discordant as if well used, the very tone seemed to contain more wisdom than Mike could ever know. But at the same time, it sounded young, the dissonant sounds still flowing smoothly without a crack. "You're just gonna remain quiet for the time bein', alright?"

Mike found himself compelled to nod; he wasn't sure what it was that made him feel so powerless – perhaps the hollow eyes of the skull, voids into which he could not see. Strangely, now that he was up close, Mike found his eyes being drawn to the pristine bone of the skull, noticing that almost every inch was filled up with light decorative carvings into the surface – even the horns were covered with etchings. The stranger seemed to carry with them the very essence of the mountain; as he breathed, it was almost like the mountain air was hitting him – all of the scents of the pines, and the dampness of the mine tunnels all combined into one.

"Sorry 'bout leaving you all with that thing on your hands for a while." They took a step backwards, instead deciding to settle on the barstool on the opposite side of the counter, leaning forwards once again, "I had…stuff to attend to, see." Mike was forced to wonder why this stranger that had barged in on them was now being so amiable – not that he was complaining however. It certainly beat having a gun against his head.

"I ought to explain what happened to your friend, but I think that can wait 'til a better time." They took care in their words, as if planning out their future actions as they spoke. The skull stared at him as if the stranger was about to speak again, but instead swung down towards the table, looking at the small red stone before picking it up in a gloved hand. "Not one 'f my best, but it did the trick." They seemed rather dissatisfied, and tossed it back at Mike, who barely caught it, lingering on their words.

"Do me a favour, will you, and not bring this up to your friends? The less people that know about my dealings, the easier I can rest." Mike didn't even have time to respond before the two gloved hands reached for the mask and gently pulled it off, as if it was not held on at all, setting it aside.

Mike was not expecting that.

Well, it was safe to say that the stranger was female…but he couldn't really find the words to describe much else. Her jawline was quite wide, but her cheeks looked gaunt, as hollow as the eyes on the mask she wore. A long pink scar ran down from the corner of her left eye, ending in a sharp point on her chin, a slice carved out of her face. Many other bruises and scars littered her dark skin – she was far from being a model, that was for sure. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a short loose hair-tie, the rest of her hair hanging from her face, clotted with mud and what could only be assumed to be blood. Mike guessed that despite her appearance, she could only be seventeen or so, eighteen at the most.

"'S not polite to stare." A small smirk spread onto her lips, chapped and dry, the corner of her smile just stopping at the scar line. Mike couldn't smile along however, he just felt shell shocked, but he couldn't really place why. Her face seemed familiar in some way…but at the same time, completely foreign.

Mike's eyes met hers grey ones, frowning as he saw her glance away, instead seeming to be distracted by something on his shoulder. He didn't have time to ask before she was speaking again, "Listen, I can't stay much longer. I'll be back soon though, you can count on that." There was a loud screech against the floor as she pushed her stool back, hopping down from it and scooping up the mask again, settling it back onto her face with practiced ease. "And remember, not a word." She held a finger up to the skull's teeth in a 'shh'.

Mike barely had time to process the situation before she was out of the kitchen door, immediately followed by a growl from what could only be Josh. "Go to hell, you bastard." He barely heard the muffled insult that the stranger had thrown at the wendigo before the door slammed shut.

What the _fuck_ just happened?


	26. Freaks of Nature

**26\. Freaks of Nature**

 _Drip drip drip. The pitter-patter of tar falling onto her skull, sliding around the inside of her mind like a thick oily sludge. Drip drip drip. The cascade became quicker, falling down like slime, pooling in her head. With every moment, her head grew more and more full, oddly warm, her thoughts becoming slow and sluggish, as if the tar was slowly eroding her brain. Drip drip drip. Still the tar flowed, even though there was nowhere for it to run. Out of her eyes and ears it poured, blinding her sight in burning blackness. The liquid tumbled out of her mouth, clinging to her teeth and gums like algae in a river, slowly sliding back down her throat with every breath. She choked, wheezing, trying to get air to flow through her windpipe. But none came. She was slowly suffocating, strangled by the mass of tar, her final moments would be that of pure terror as she coughed and spluttered helplessly, as her last breaths left her._

Ashley awoke bolt upright, hands grasping at her throat desperately, fingers scratching against her neck in a fight for air. She almost choked as a rush of air flew into her lungs, inflating so fast that she thought they were going to pop like balloons at a party. She hot, sweat pouring down her face. Her forehead was on fire…her whole head was. It felt like her head was still filled with sludge, slowly draining away as the memory of the nightmare drained away, as if down a plughole in her spine.

Brushing away the last drops of perspiration from her face, letting her breathing slow, Ashley grabbed her phone off of the bed-side table and cringed. The screen read: 1:23 AM. Part of her was willing her to go back to sleep, and to forget the nightmare. But after that, she was fairly sure that she wouldn't sleep for a long time.

Ashley pushed herself out of bed, careful not to disturb Sam who was sleeping on the bed across from her. As quietly as she could, with shaking hands, Ashley pulled on some shorts before rustling around in her bag for a shirt. She finally plucked out a rather large, soft one, before cringing. This had been one of Chris' shirts, he had lent it her a long time ago, a few months before the events of last year. With tears stinging in her eyes, she pulled it over herself, trying to push away how she wished that it still smelled like him, even though the scent of his cologne had long since been washed away with countless fabric softeners and detergents.

Shoving her phone into her short pocket, Ashley gently pried open the door, slipping out on bare feet, bouncing slightly on her tiptoes. She was halfway down the ground floor when she heard the sound of growling, a wave of fear passing over her as she wondered if Josh had already heard her. The growl was followed by the sharp _bang_ of the main door, almost sending Ashley jumping out of her skin. Who the hell was out at this time of night?

Her mind immediately flashed to that of the deer-faced stranger. As if she hadn't had enough of creepy, dead masks for the year. She couldn't shake the feeling that clung to her after those hollow eyes had stared at her, as if judging her very soul, the way the teeth of the skull curved was almost like that of an eternal smile, hiding dark secrets behind it.

 _Don't be an idiot, Ash._ She told herself, taking a deep breath before tiptoeing down the stairs, extremely careful not to disturb Josh again. If she could be so lucky.

The second her feet touched down onto the landing, another quiet growl pierced her ears, her wide eyes flashing in the darkness, trying to sense where it was originating from. In the shadows, her eyes barely picked up on the silhouette of Josh, crouched mere metres away from the stairs, mouth drawn back in a snarl. By the looks of it, he'd grown tired of hiding away beneath the stairs, and was taking this time to roam around the room, industrial chain dragging behind him as if it was nothing more than a piece of string tied to his neck.

Instinctively, Ashley remained motionless, her legs already beginning to ache from stiffness. She desperately wanted to back away, even run like Jess had, but ice cold claws pulled her against the ground, rooting her in place.

But then a thought crossed her mind in a brilliant flash. Back in the tunnel to the mines, the stranger had been constantly tapping their toes and drumming their fingers – she had easily picked up on this, thanks to her increased sensitivity after the night she had endured last year. At the time, it looked like the stranger had been keeping Josh's attention, before Sam had called out, pulling him out of the trance like state he had been in.

Another memory was called to the front of her mind – the journal she had discovered last year had been very precise in how the wendigoes could see, only through movements and sounds. With a pang in her heart, she realised that Josh was probably extremely confused, maybe even _scared_ , unable to see her because of her stillness.

Without fully realising what she was doing, Ashley's fingers began to drum along her leg, creating a light _tap_ on her skin as each finger made a small impact. That caught Josh's attention – even the slightest noise made him cock his head at her, neck extending as he tried to get a better sight on the movement, seeming to focus on it rather rapidly. His nails were digging into the wooden floor, peeling up the material like wood filings, making ruts in the pristine floor.

Ashley felt jolts of fear flowing through her body like electricity, but at the same time, a flare of hope beamed on in her heart. She could tell that even if Josh didn't look like himself, or act human in any way, he was still _there_ , somewhere buried inside the twisted and warped exterior. More confidence building up, as if she was piling logs onto the small flame burning away in her chest, she took a step forwards, cringing as the board under her bare foot creaked with a shrill tone, akin to something in a horror movie.

Josh's head snapped down to the board, staring at it for a moment before his glassy gaze travelled back up to Ashley. There was a second of silence, only filled by the light taps that Ashley was still creating, before Josh drew himself off of the ground, standing on his thin legs. He now towered above Ashley, leering down at her as he too took a step towards her, breathing fowl breath into the air.

There was a strange sensation that Ashley could hardly place, quickly putting her finger on it the moment the feeling became recognisable. Josh didn't scare her while he was like this, despite being in a form that he could easily rip her to shreds in, she doubted that he would. Even though Josh had grown in size, and looked more monstrous than ever, he was so clearly damaged and injured, blood still continuing to run from cuts and bruises on his pale face and shoulders, as if his body didn't even have the energy to repair the wounds.

 _Huh. It's like some weird supernatural novel,_ Ashley mused, finding herself drifting slightly as Josh continued to watch the rhythm of her fingers with wide eyes, _Trying to befriend a monster or something._

Another clink of the chain brought Ashley back into reality, her eyebrows raising in surprise as Josh took one last look at her before trailing away again, walking back to his temporary territory on unsteady, wobbling legs.

"You noticed it too, huh?" Mike's voice startled her, coming from the couch nearest the fireplace where a few embers were still burning away. With a grimace, Ashley realised that he must have witnessed what had occurred between her and Josh, but she had been too absorbed to notice his still form sitting in the shadows – and apparently, so had Josh. She was half sure that Josh would leap out again at the sudden noise, but all was still from his direction. Mike was sat, prodding the fire with an iron poker, the shadows under his eyes barely lit up by the dying light.

She paused for a second, mulling over his vague question. "Noticed what?" She and Mike had never really spoken, save for a 'hello' now and again. She didn't really have anything against him, not like she did Chris.

"Josh." He stated, casing a glance over his shoulder at her, a silent invitation for her to sit and join him. Ashley complied only too gladly, her limbs shaking with adrenaline after her encounter with Josh – she felt strangely satisfied. "He's still in there, somewhere."

Ashley settled down on the chair adjacent to Mike's centre one, perching on the edge of a cushion, one hand planted on either side of her body to steady herself. "It kinda seems like it." She heard a small groan from Josh's direction, followed by a small _thud_ – it sounded as if he had finally settled down.

Mike nodded, but instead reverted his attention to the fire, seemingly content with her response. Ashley couldn't help but notice how the embers reflected off of his eyes, which seemed to be shadowed in doubt…but it was more than that. Ashley had become exceptionally good at reading people, not only because of her near-death experience from last year, but because of how well-read she had become. It was almost as though everyone she encountered was a character in a book, playing out their role.

No, it wasn't just doubt in Mike's eyes…

He was hiding something.


	27. The Visit

_**A/N**_

 _Aaa! Sorry for not posting for the last couple of days! I've been swamped with work, but I've been very excited to write this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it!_

 ** _PamPotterEvans:_** _Thank you! Your support means a lot! And how could I make a fic without everyone's favourite Josh in it!_

 ** _'Guest':_** _I love Jess/Matt too! I actually cringe so much whilst writing fluff, but I love it all the same! Glad you like it too!_

 ** _JusKIdding:_** _Thank you for your lovely compliments! I don't know what I did to deserve this! I try my best to write an exciting and suspense filled tale!_

* * *

 **27\. The Visit**

Emily tossed and turned in restlessness, the blankets and sheets of her bed tangled around her legs as she thrashed in a desperate attempt to find sleep and comfort where there was none to be found. Every position felt wrong, she couldn't settle. Her heart pounded and her head ached – of course, that wasn't helped by the muffled growling of 'Josh' downstairs, rumbling like an engine in the basement of the lodge.

She had been in this state all night, flitting between both states of sleep and dreadful awakening, sinking into a dark dream one minute and waking into an even darker reality the next. She just wanted _rest_ for God's sake, was that so much to ask? Apparently her fellow housemates thought so. She heard someone moving downstairs in the middle of the night, although Emily had barely registered it, floating through a delirious state, and the constantly screeching Josh was slowly grinding on her mental state.

She was once again staying in her own room, as she had done the night before. As much as Emily would have loved to stay with Jessica again – much for her own comfort – she wasn't about to share with Matt as well. As much as she loved Jessica, boy did the girl move around in her sleep, and she was so _loud._ How Matt could put up with her snoring, Emily had no idea. Matt was another issue too; she didn't have anything against the couple – in fact, she quite supported the two being together – but Matt was as bad as Jessica when it came to sharing a room with him. He would constantly mutter and shout in his sleep, not from fear or nightmares, but from his dreams of playing football or what Emily assumed must be extraordinary adventures.

Emily had to admit that she was more than a little freaked out that there was a creepy deer-faced person watching them on the mountain. She was forced to cast her mind back to the other stranger she had met last year, the one who had helped her survive the threat of the wendigoes, keeping her out of danger in the mines. Emily had always appreciated that, even if she never said it. Without him, it was more than likely that every single one of the group would be dead (not that she would mind if a certain someone hadn't made it)…but without them, he would still have been _alive._

Thoughts raced around Emily's head, spinning and whirling like an uncontrollable tornado, threatening to tear her skull apart like a piece of wood to be stripped into shards, every second the winds reached another recess of her memories, flinging them up like shrapnel. The storm soon reached the suppressed recollection of what happened last year…and the year before that. Maybe…maybe if they hadn't been such _idiots_ , none of this would have happened. Beth wouldn't have died, and Hannah wouldn't have become that _thing._ Then Josh wouldn't have wanted revenge, and they never would have had to proceed through all of the ordeals they had to face.

It was funny, Emily had considered herself to be far above average intelligence, but when she looked back on that night, all she could see was idiocy. How could she have even got it into her mind to treat her supposed friend like that? She knew that she wasn't the only one to blame for the 'prank', but she still felt the responsibility weighing on her shoulders.

She couldn't sleep like this. In one fluid movement, Emily swung herself out of her bed and sluggishly made her way to the en suite, checking the clock to see that it read 2:24 AM. _Great._ She almost cringed at her own reflection; her hair was dishevelled, fly-aways quite literally flying away, and her eyes seemed to be sinking back into her head. Her gaze looked dull and her face was void of emotion. _What happened to me?_

Pulling her hands down her face slowly, she turned on the cold faucet at the sink and splashed her face with the icy water, squeezing her eyes tightly as she felt her stress submerging back into the depths of her mind once again. She remained in the bathroom a while longer, finding herself staring off into space, her face still running with drops of refreshing water.

After what seemed like an eternity, Emily finally snapped herself out of it. Perhaps she would get some sleep now that she was feeling a little better. She would need it after all, because no doubt everyone would be up at ungodly hours to see the 'freak show' going on downstairs. Unfortunately, Emily would have no such luck.

As she turned off the en suite's light and exited, her heart jumped straight up to the roof of her mouth, as if trying to escape past her teeth in shock. Sat on her bed, leaning back on the headboard, looking rather smug with their arms folded, was the deer-skulled stranger. She half wanted to back into the bathroom again, locking herself in, but she also wanted to scream for help… but she knew that would do no good – clearly this person was able to take care of themselves, and it was likely that they were carrying a weapon should things fall in at the deep end. The window was fully open, pale curtains streaming out into the night like ghostly figures. It was obvious from where the stranger had come.

But another part of her, an older, forgotten part of her, was curious. She wanted to know what they were doing here. Who they were. Why they were following the group. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to know all of the answers to every one of her questions. And boy, did she have a lot of them.

"W-why…why are you here?" Despite her internal confidence, Emily's voice still came out as a shaking breath, floating along the stale air like a wrapper in the wind. The stranger hadn't moved in her moments of deliberation, their skull-covered face staring hollowly at her, as if hiding motives behind the dark eyes. Emily fixed them with an equally as cold stare, hoping that she was as intimidating as the stranger seemed to be.

The stranger's skull swung as if weighed down, raising so that they could speak more clearly, "I need a favour." The long horns of the bone scraped against the wall, creating an eerie scratching sound as Emily pondered the statement, squinting her eyes at the intruder. Step by step, she made herself walk closer, ignoring how one section of her mind was telling her to run as far as she could in the opposite direction.

"Why?" She felt stronger this time, more assured in her assertion. She would back this person into a corner if she could, making them spill all of their secrets like a clumsily-carried drink. "I mean, you broke into the lodge, what, three times now? Twice into my room – like, creepy. And you now want a _favour_?" Despite how interested Emily might have been in the stranger's purpose, her main priority was let them have a piece of her mind.

"You weren't my first choice." The stranger spoke bluntly, pushing themselves off of the bed and strolling towards Emily, gloved hands shoved back into their pockets. Emily pushed away the urge to step backwards as the stranger leered at her, a few inches taller than she was, although by the sound of the heavy _clunk_ as they walked, they were helped by the slight heal of their boot.

Up close, Emily could see a lot more detail of the stranger now that they were no longer covered in shadows. For one, it became evident that this stranger was not 'they', but rather 'she'. From the mud-caked boots (which had trailed dirt across the bedspread and along the carpet) which were significantly feminine, to the hair tied up in a loose ponytail, it became obvious to Emily. However it didn't stop that impending sensation of dread from building up in her stomach as the skull moved even closer.

Emily took a moment to calculate the situation, "…Then what do you want." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, a demand to get what she wanted. A familiar spark lit inside of her – the spark of old Emily, only without the horrid bitch that came along with it. She liked this Emily.

The stranger took a step back again, clearly seeming more relaxed now that it was clear that Emily wasn't going to try anything. Instead, she moved to sit at the windowsill, drawing her coat further around her as she stared at Emily through the skull. "That thing you call Josh isn't gon' stay like that much longer," she began, swinging her legs up onto the ledge, still watching Emily with piqued interest, "I've been able to keep him from transformin' the whole nine yards, see. Somethin' I've been working on for a while."

"And?" Emily queried, taking a seat on the now filthy bed, careful to brush off loose dirt before sitting down. She was certainly not in the mood at this point – she had only wanted some sleep, and now she was being roped into…whatever the fuck this was.

"And," the stranger gently pulled off the skull-mask, a grimace spread across her mouth, brows furrowed, "He ain't gonna stay like that for long 'less you help me out." She gently set the skull on the ledge and fixed Emily with a cold grey stare. Emily couldn't help but focus on the rugged scar that drew down the stranger's face. "I know you're the smart one around 'ere, so-"

Emily fixed the stranger with an accusatory look, eyes squinted in suspicion. "How could you know that?" It wasn't as though Emily was about to deny the fact, but it certainly set off alarm bells in her head that the stranger had picked up on those details.

Instead, the stranger, gave her a look that seemed as though she was about to snarl like a rabid animal. "As I was sayin'," her voice was as annoyed as she appeared, "I need you to keep an eye on that wendigo. He ain't far enough gone to start eating you all, but he will soon. You're gonna need him to not eat people, if that weren't obvious already," she added with a small smirk, her gaze flittering to the snow-covered mountains outside, "That thing needs a regular supply of raw deer meat – substitutes if you could call 'em that."

Emily continued to look unimpressed, another question shooting to mind. "How come you can't do all of this? I mean, you've managed for a year, why can't you just keep on going like that?"

The stranger's head snapped around again, arms folding defensively, "'cause have you tried livin' with a _wendigo_ for a year? Fuckin' nightmare. I thought I would be doin' somethin', y'know, honourable by helpin' out you and your fucked up friend, but I'm done with that now. Too much hassle if you ask me." She seemed apathetic in her answer, although Emily noticed how the stranger dwelled on the word 'honourable' as if she was remembering what must have happened for her a year ago.

Emily nodded slowly, "Alright..." She was still only about forty percent convinced on the idea, but she wasn't about to challenge the other again – that freezing glare seemed to embody winter itself, and she didn't want to have to fight her either. Emily was fairly sure she would lose anyhow.

"Oh, yeah, also," the stranger stood up, straightening out their dusty and torn coat, "There's some totems scattered about the outside of the lodge, don't mess them up please, I spent a long time workin' on them. They help keep the wendigo spirit at bay see – but they're pretty shit at working indoors, so I've been tryin' ta keep the lodge safe instead." Emily took a second to process the statement; it was already obvious that it was the stranger who was producing the small, carved stones that she had seen Chris and Mike with, but she was also carving totems too? Emily cast her mind back to last year, faintly recalling the decorative totems she had found scattered around the mountain.

"And hey, keep this between us, okay? I don't think your friends will care for you sneakin' behind their backs." There was a smirk still playing across of the stranger's face. With a nod the stranger, slipping her mask partially over her face, began to swing herself out of the open window, easily pushing herself over the ledge, clinging on with what seemed to be minimal effort. So many more questions began to burn in Emily's mind, shooting into her skull like lightning leaving scorching paths of fire. There was one that blazed brighter than the others though, and it fell out of her mouth before she could even stop it.

"Wait!" That got the stranger's attention. She looked up and Emily found the small trace of a smile spreading onto her own face, "…What's your name?"

The stranger looked caught off guard for a second, as if she was about to fall from the window. Her eyes fell shut for a second and Emily heard her exhale before the grey eyes popped open again, thoughts clearly visible on their smoky surface. "…Call me Nova."

"I'm Emily."

She had barely uttered her name before 'Nova' had disappeared down the outside of the lodge, easily siding down the wall and slipping into the darkness below, only her faint figure distinguishable amongst the trees.

By the sheer thought process that had to go into answering that question, Emily doubted that the name 'Nova' was genuine, but she wasn't about to chase the stranger into the freezing night to accuse her of fraud. With many questions still burning in her mind, Emily pulled the window closed and settled back down onto the bed, not caring particularly for the dirt that littered the bedding.

She tried to settle again for a while, but yet again, Emily found sleep just out of reach. But it wasn't the sheer amount of questions and thoughts tumbling through her brain that kept her awake, no, it was discomfort. Shifting her pillow slightly, Emily frowned as she felt something small fall out from under it.

In the dim light, Emily's eyes widened.

Another stone.

White.


	28. Dark Skies

_Ohmygod! Sorry guys! My computer has been busted for a couple of days, so I've been unable to get this one out! Fortunately, everything is fixed now, so I'll be getting chapters out at (hopefully) the usual rate. But I do have quite a few exams and stuff coming up, so there might be some delays!_

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 **28\. Dark Skies**

She tried so hard not to hear the noises. Oh how hard she tried. But every creak of a board under foot, every inhuman noise, every slam of a door…they all wore down on Jessica.

What had happened to bring them this far? Had this all happened in just three days? Or was this some long, convoluted plot spanning years long past? She honestly wasn't sure anymore.

She had been confident for the first day – happy to see her friends again, spurred on by their love and comfort, she was _good_ , perhaps even better than good. The second day had gone fairly well too; there had been no major incidents in her life, and things were looking up. The thought of 'maybe it will be alright this time' flew across her mind more than once that day.

Of course, that night, everything came crumbling down, as did Jessica. In one foul swing, a wrecking ball of old memories had smashed down the wall she was protecting herself and everyone around her with, letting the memories flood through like a dam that had been blown wide open. Except, it wasn't only a tidal of memories anymore, but people too. Josh, the stranger, even her friends. They all came down in a torrent of anguish and regret, threatening to knock her over with every pulse of her heart.

She lay awake, her head pushed deeply into the pillow, so that the fabric slightly obscured her glassy view of the darkened wall, her chest rising and falling softly. Despite sharing the bed with Matt, who was still fast asleep, Jessica still felt _cold_ , cold like the snow on the highest peak of a mountain, or in an icy sea. It chilled her right to her bones, as if her blood was nearly frozen, moving slowly through her veins in a lazy red river.

She knew the feeling all too well. It had become a common sensation for her in the year leading up to this day; Jessica had always had problems putting trust in people after the incident, but with help, that issue was gradually resolved. Or at least, she thought it was. But now, here she was again, building up another wall to separate herself from others, with bricks lined with winter's frost, biting at her hands like thorns. With a hefty sigh, Jessica realised that the wall had never been to protect herself – no, that was just her excuse – it was to hide herself, she never felt like she could trust anyone, and if she could hide, she wouldn't have to face them. It all made sense in her numb mind.

Another creak sounded – normally, Jessica would have been startled from her thoughts, but instead, the noise sent her plummeting even further into the cavernous recesses of her mind. Who could she actually trust? It was a question that sent her mind reeling back to the past – this was yet again something she had last asked herself many months ago, and now it returned like a persistent boomerang of misfortune.

She could hear Ashley moving from her room (which was adjacent to her own) and out onto the landing before her footsteps disappeared into the silence of the lodge. _She's probably getting some water or something to drink, Jess,_ she told herself, attempting to bat away the ideas brought to the front of her mind by her wild imagination, but they came anyways, pushing through her defences as if they were made of straw. Who knew what Ashley could be doing? Who knew what anyone could be doing?

Mike had stayed downstairs all evening, alone and quiet; her trust in the man had been severely diminished over the year, and found herself recoiling as she thought about the escapades of the past. But who knew what he was doing now? She certainly didn't.

Jessica wondered with a stiff grimace if this was how Emily felt; always afraid of what people were doing behind their backs – maybe Emily's aversion to people, and Jessica's lack of trust were not that different. For a moment in time, in the dark and undisturbed room, Jessica felt the weight of a thousand tears falling onto her shoulders, as though the force was pushing her into the mattress. She wondered numbly what had happened to her after all this time as the invisible weight pushed her lower and lower, finally forcing her eyes closed into a deep sleep.

She awoke to faint sunlight pouring through the window, almost blinding Jessica as her eyes slowly opened, like petals unfurling in the dawn light. A small groan escaped her lips; her back seemed to ache as if something had knocked the wind out of her, leaving her breathless and in dull lingering pain.

Jessica stretched, her fingers brushing the wooden headboard before letting her hands fall back down onto the bed as she rolled onto her back, a small giggle escaping her as her left hand fell onto Matt's face, earning a sleepy grunt of protest from him.

"C'mon, lazybones," Jessica smirked, slowly lifting herself out of bed, shivering as she left the cocoon of warmth that consisted of the blankets, and stepped into the still air of the room. Instead of following, Matt had simply rolled over in the bed and drew the still-warm covers over him, muttering something indecipherable as his eyes fluttered shut again. That brought a soft smile onto Jessica's face; at least Matt didn't seem deterred by the questionable activities on the mountain… well, not to her knowledge.

Deciding to leave the curtains closed for Matt's benefit, Jessica pulled off the old pink pyjamas she had worn and rifled through her wardrobe where she had already unpacked both her own and Matt's clothes. Eventually, she picked out a small blue top and some skinny jeans, and, as an afterthought, she chose to take one of Matt's large jumpers as well, hastily pulling it over her head, pushing her hair out at all angles. "You take my blankets, I'll take your clothes."

She made her way onto the ground floor, fairly pleased to find that it was only her awake, and, well, Josh, who was sat in the corner eyeing her suspiciously. Jessica tried to ignore his pale glare – most of them had soon learnt that the easiest way to deal with their wendigo pal was to not even give him the time of day. Of course, that didn't stop Chris and occasionally Sam and Mike from attempting to make some form of contact, but that mostly ended in tears.

Jessica settled down onto one of the couches, choosing to stare out of the window rather than watch her early-morning chat shows as per usual. It was then that she noticed she was in fact _not_ alone, as on the couch opposite from hers, Mike was passed out on his front, his face pushed firmly into the cushions. Ashley was also asleep on the chair in between both couches, head lolling back as she slept, her fingers twitching every now and again.

The sight left Jess wondering if anyone here actually ever got any sleep. At least every morning, there had been someone completely out either on some of the furniture, or just on a makeshift bed of clothes and cushions on the floor. Of course, she wasn't much of one to talk, but at least she had the decency to crash in her room, rather than just on the living room furniture.

An hour or so had passed, which Jessica had mostly spent flipping back and forth through various channels on the TV until she was satisfied with the programming. The top right corner of the screen read 9:01 AM.

Mike had finally begun to stir, and Jessica had been forced to stifle a smug chuckle as he almost tumbled off of the couch and onto the floor in his haze. All of her worries and thoughts from the night before had once again been pushed further back into her head, allowing her to fill the space with bright, but sometimes forced smiles.

Immediately after waking, Mike had muttered some form of 'Good morning' to her before stumbling off up the stairs, looking dazed, and Jessica was partially concerned that he was going to trip up the stairs on his sleep-filled journey. Not a moment later had she heard a thud and muffled cursing from the upper floors, and Jessica found herself wondering if it was only the women who were the smart ones in this place.

The clinking of a chain stirred Jessica, causing her to cast a glance over to where Josh resided; he was now stood fully upright, leaning against the pillar to which the chain was connected, and Jess could almost imagine it was the same old Josh, arms folded, a smug grin spread across his face. Of course, that was far from reality. Instead, his sightless, milky eyes seemed were regarding the fixture of the chain, long sharpened nails fiddling with it intensely. Jessica found worry creeping up her skin as she wondered what he was trying to do – escape, perhaps? She needn't have feared for long, however, as it soon became apparent that the long claw-like nails were hindering Josh's actions, making him fumble. With a frustrated growl, he settled back onto all fours, stalking away in what could only be frustration.

The growl seemed to alert Ashley, who snapped upwards into a rigid sitting position, back straight and eyes wide in shock, which quickly dissolved into confusion as she glanced around the room, eyebrows furrowing. Jessica couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside the other's head, but didn't dare to question her – the pair had never been that close anyways – instead watching Ashley push herself stiffly to her feet and slowly make her way into the shadowed section of the room where Josh had ambled away to, chain clinking behind him.

Jessica shook her head; maybe her earlier premise had been wrong, as she realised that maybe it was just her that was the only normal one here. At least she wasn't chasing wendigoes or running around after mysterious people on the mountain. To be fair though, she didn't really consider herself 'normal'. At least, not anymore.

What did normal mean? Jessica honestly wasn't sure at this point, but she did know what normal _used_ to mean. Normal used to mean popular, pretty, into chick-flicks and fashion, typical high school tropes for the average 'blonde bimbo'. For a while, Jessica hadn't considered herself normal after the traumatic experience of the mountain, in fact, she felt as though she was the complete _opposite_ of normal. Her emotions had soon overwhelmed her, and Jessica found that less and less people were sticking by her, and the majority of people certainly hadn't considered her 'pretty' anymore due to the scars lining her face and body like ugly ridges carved into her skin.

More often than not, though, that wasn't what bothered Jessica. On most days, she could handle how people perceived her, and the scars stopped bothering her after a while, but it was what was inside that estranged her. Did anyone else have these thoughts running through their heads? Did any of them know what she had been through? Did any of them understand her?

No. She knew they didn't. There was a very select few that understood her. And they were all gathered here now. No matter how much bitterness might have risen in her throat at the thought, Jessica couldn't deny the fact that they had all shared something. They all knew. They were all different from what they had once been.

Jessica had reclined into the couch, letting her eyes drift lazily towards the ceiling, barely aware of the bustle going on around her before loud voices broke through her own bubble. Blinking in confusion, Jessica noticed that Matt and Emily had settled down beside her, and the rest of the group had chosen places on the assembled seats – even Josh seemed to be intrigued by the commotion, and was lurking a few yards away.

Sam stood in the middle of the group, arms folded as she regarded each and every one with an unreadable expression.

"We need to talk."


	29. Hidden

_Where have I been? We just don't know! (Sorry for not updating sooner - remember the good old days when I uploaded every day? Haha...yeah...)_

 _Anyways, thank you for all of your kind reviews and follows ;)_

 _I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it's pretty short!_

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 **29\. Hidden**

"We need to talk." A phrase that carried so much weight that it was amazing Sam's head hadn't concaved with each syllable.

She had thought long and hard about what the moment had finally come to. Sam had been forced to reflect on the past few days, and in hindsight, she realised they had been pretty out of the ordinary – even for them.

The stranger's appearance had completely thrown her off, but to be fair, it would have been pretty unrealistic to imagine returning to the mountain _without_ something going wrong in some way. It was one thing having a masked intruder break into your lodgings as if it were their own home, but it was another to have said intruder unleash a monster that used to be your best friend.

Every day had turned into another loop in a spiral of emotions that never went up. Every morning Sam would wake up on the couch or on the floor – she honestly wasn't very picky – to the sound of clinking chains and growls of complaint, faced with Josh. Somehow, it didn't feel right to call him Josh, but at the same time, it felt so _wrong_ to call him an 'it' or a monster.

She was never entirely sure if she would have forgiven him for what he did, if the circumstances had been different. He had trapped her, kept her prisoner through his sick games. He was twisted. Broken. Josh had hidden it well. But now, through his distorted features and pale eyes, she could see his hurt finally being reflected, although half of her was sure that she was just imagining it. Perhaps she just wanted him to be okay. She wanted to forgive him.

There was so much she needed to say. To him. To everyone. So many matters that tumbled and poured through her mind like a waterfall, her ideas and worries floating along as though they were logs drifting on the surface, looming closer to the point where they would come crumbling down in a swirling torrent.

Sam was centred perfectly in front of the TV, stood where everyone could see her as their prime focus – what she had to say was important. Her gaze flitted over everyone assembled; Matt, Jessica and Emily were all pushed together on one couch to her left, Mike was sat in the centre chair with Chris perching on the back of it (Sam tried not to notice how vacant the latter looked) and Ashley was taking up the couch to Sam's right, her legs pulled up so that her feet rested flat on the cushions. Even Josh was present, standing in a slouched position, his arms raised slightly off of the ground. It was hard to see her old friend amongst all of his animosity.

"Things are getting complicated now – more than ever – and we need to discuss what we're going to do next." Sam began, struggling to keep her voice level under the cold gazes of her companions. Each pupil felt like a bullet being shot from a white gun, threatening to send her toppling to the ground.

"You mean about Josh?" Ashley was the first to respond, her head raised to look at Sam, her features inexpressive. Sam couldn't help but remember how full of emotion Ashley had used to be; every word used to be filled with feeling, but now she just seemed…empty.

"Yeah, that's one thing," Sam replied, gesturing vaguely in Josh's direction, causing him to start slightly at the sudden movement. "I personally think we should wait and see what happens, but I'm sure some people will disagree." Sam stared pointedly at Mike, who met her gaze with a cool one of his own, as if he was calculating something.

Sam was relatively surprised to see that Mike had no response to her, considering the fight they had gotten into the other day about what they were to do with their resident wendigo. What had happened to Mike to make him so subdued all of a sudden?

"Is it safe to have him around?" Matt was the next to speak, flashing a quick glance towards Josh before retraining on Sam, concern painted visibly across his features. "I mean…" he trailed off, and Sam raised her eyebrows as she caught Jessica clutching his hand, looking at him with soft eyes.

With a sigh, Sam folded her arms, "We don't _know_ if it's safe. We weren't exactly given much information for a start." Her mind was cast back into the night in the basement where the clanking of the chain and heavy footsteps still rang clear in her head. "The skull-person didn't really want to give much away, that's for sure." At the mention of the stranger, Mike shifted slightly, his eyes darting around the room, unable to look at Sam. She pretended not to notice.

"And that's another matter," she continued, finally becoming more at ease with the situation, "What do we do about the skull-person. I mean, clearly they've been here for a while. We don't know what they're doing here, or how they came across Josh." Questions began to spread through her brain like a wave, and she was barely able to stop herself spitting them out in front of the group.

"I'd be happier if I didn't see skully ever again." Jessica muttered, almost too quietly for Sam to hear. She couldn't help but remember how Jessica had run in terror in the basement – Sam couldn't really blame her after the dealings the other girl had had with the wendigoes last year. This must be torture for her.

"Well, it's okay," Sam turned to face Jessica, who was still gripping onto Matt's hand, her eyes staring down at the floorboards, "I don't think we'll have to meet them again. I think they came to give us Josh and then went on their way again. I wouldn't worry." Despite the words, Sam had a hard time believing in her own words.

And so did the rest of the group, apparently, as Emily soon cut into the conversation, "Actually, I wouldn't be so sure of that." Sam fixed her with a severely bemused look before Emily reached into her pocket and drew out a white stone from her pocket. Sam internally groaned – not _another_ one. "I, uh, found this on my pillow…last night." Emily seemed to fumble with her words, as if she wasn't quite sure about what to say.

"You've had one now?" Mike was the first to respond, and Sam immediately grimaced as Emily faltered and looked away, as if she wanted to shrink into the couch itself. Even Mike shifted his gaze again, looking extremely uncomfortable. A moment later, he produced the red stone that had been gifted to them in the tunnel. "How many of these things are there?"

"Three." Chris murmured, joining in the discussion for the first time, although it was clear to see that he was not truly focused, instead, his gaze was lingering at the shadowed figure that was Josh. He, in turn, produced the first white stone they had discovered. "There's three stones in total."

"…Four." Sam forced the word out of her mouth before she could stop herself, the very syllable a heavy breath that seemed to hang in the air. That got everyone's attention. As if they were all one body, each person's head swung around to face her with expressions ranging from utterly bemused to reproachful. As the group had been shooting stares at one another, Sam's hand had instinctively delved into her own pocket, as if her hands had been drawn to the contents within. Her fingers had clenched around a small round stone. "There are four of them."

With a shaking hand, Sam pulled out a stone; it was a dull yellow, like sandstone, but somehow, just as smooth as marble. As with all of the others, a small butterfly had been carved into one side of the glossy surface, revealing a slightly darker yellow underneath. "I…" The words wouldn't form, as if her lips were sealing them away inside of her mouth.

"Where did you get that?" Mike pushed himself out of his chair, raising himself above Sam - for a moment in time, fear passed over Sam, but the sensation quickly fled as Mike's expression was one of intrigue rather than one of anger. In a swift movement, he pried the stone from her cold fingers and compared it to the red one. "…Exactly the same…"

"I don't know." That was the truth. But judging by the glares that Chris and Emily had sent her, not everyone in the group easily believed her account. "I just found it in my pocket then…"

The whole situation was so messed up. How the hell had this stone ended up in her pocket in the first place? She had worn this jacket yesterday, and there certainly hadn't been any creepy carving in there then. The only time she had taken her jumper off was in the night, which meant…

"Oh no."


	30. Audition

**30\. Audition**

How interesting. Do you not agree?

Do you not find it intriguing to see how these people morph and shift into one collective, only to be torn apart again every day? One mass constructed of fear, banding together with strands of terror, melding with the cold blood that pumps through their veins.

Are you part of that? Do you _want_ to be part of that?

 _Just leave me alone…I don't want to answer you anymore…_

Oh, but you must. You're the one who subjected yourself to this, and now you must follow through, otherwise what sort of person would you be? A liar? A coward?

 _I'm none of those things._

Then show it. Show that you're not such a pathetic creature. _Prove it._

Does anyone trust you here? Would they even want you to be part of them? Of their lives? I doub- _drip drip drip –_ after all who could – _drip drip drip_ – would you?

 _I - DRIP DRIP DRIP – please stop this – DRIP DRIP DRIP._

Stop what? Perhaps you're simply imagining things. The lines of reality and fiction are blurring every day. How can you be sure if what you are experiencing is merely fictitious.

 _It's not._

 _It's not._

 _They're real._

 _Please stop._

Are they real? Are they really? Do you know? Can you even answer me?

 _DRIP DRIP DRIP._


	31. Sinister

_Ahh. Well, who missed me? I missed me, at least ;)_

 _I'm hopefully going to be able to upload at least 3/4 chapters a week, maybe more, maybe less. I don't wanna promise anything that I can't give you!_

 _Also, I'm going to be limiting the POVs from here on in. Our main heroes now are; Mike, Emily, Chris and Sam. The first four to get a stone. Don't worry, you'll still see the others from time to time ;)_

* * *

 **31\. Sinister**

'Oh no' was certainly the right phrase. Of _course_ there was another stone. Of _course_ they were being stalked on Death Mountain again. Of _fucking_ course.

Chris' head fell into his hands as the once confident Sam now stood quavering, looking as though her wobbling knees would give way any moment. The group had all come to the same conclusion in a matter of seconds. Sam was incorrect. The stranger had not left at all. No, quite the opposite in fact.

Chris couldn't believe it. His fingers tightened around the small stone in his fist, knuckles turning white as he squeezed it as though it was a stress-ball, taking all of his anger out on the delicate butterfly that lay inside. He knew it. He knew this would be a bad idea. Didn't he say that? He was almost positive he had…

His mind was immediately cast to Ashley was huddled on the couch, staring at Sam with wide and wild eyes. Chris cursed himself for watching her, but he couldn't tear away as pain ripped through his heart as Ashley's lower lip quivered and her fingers shook slightly. What was going through her mind? Chris couldn't answer that, let alone imagine that. Imagine the horrors and traumas she relived every day…Chris wasn't sure if he would be able to stand that. But this was Ashley. Ashley was strong – even below her broken and wounded appearance, she still had that spirit in her. Despite being apart for so long, Chris could still see that.

Apparently, his concerned gaze had not gone unnoticed by Mike, who Chris noticed was watching him from the corner of his eye. Chris' gaze shifted so that he could regard Michael through his misty glasses.

"You alright?" The question was murmured in a low voice, Mike's face contorted into a frown as he stared at Chris before pushing himself up from the chair in a meaningful manner. "Clearly not." Before Chris could utter a word, Mike had pulled him off of the couch and was leading him to the kitchen where they both took stools opposite from each other.

"You've got to stop doing this," Mike began, his voice burdened with a sigh, "Going after Ashley. It's a lost cause, pal." Despite the sympathetic words, his tone was gruff and final, his eyes bearing into Chris' skull like brown daggers.

Chris' head immediately fell to the counter, forehead resting on his folded arms in a breath of utter despair, "I know, man, I know…" He tried to stop his words catching in his throat – he really didn't want to let loose all of his bottled up feelings to _anyone_ , let alone Mike. The two hadn't really been that close, save for fleeting moments at the lodge last year when they had tried to take down the flamethrower guy. But at the same time, Chris felt like Mike might be one of the only ones to actually understand him. Mike had lost Jessica, just as Chris had lost Ashley…not like he really ever _had_ Ashley to begin with. They had both made poor decisions down the road that had lead them onto spiralling detours through life.

"It's just…being back here, it's hard not to remember, y'know?" His palms opened in exasperation as he levered his head off of the cold marble surface, letting the small stone in his hand roll free into the counter. "I can't…I can't help but remember what it was like, maybe not last year, but two years ago…even before then."

Mike was silent, save for the occasional 'mm' of agreement or comfort. Chris was grateful – the last thing he needed right now was some smart-ass comment delivered at his worst moments.

"Me and Ashley…we were good, right? Better than good, maybe…ughhh…" Chris trailed off with a groan, "Why couldn't I have told her how I felt when we were all safe and shit. Maybe that would have stopped that whole thing that Josh pulled." Another thought flared in his mind, as if sparks had flown from his misery to light other fires, each with a different memory. "That's another thing. Josh…Josh oh my god…" They were sat right there, right where he and Josh had sat the night of the 'prank', the night of the disappearance of Hannah and Beth, the night that marked the beginning of a missing persons case…of course, they weren't really missing anymore. One was lying at the bottom of the dark cold mines, and the other…the other was laying the ashes that built the foundation of this new lodge. It made him _sick._

"I can't believe what happened to Josh, man," he continued, casting a glance towards the main hall where the clinking of chains could be heard, "Is it even Josh anymore? He's not even human at this point, he…he's one of those _things._ " Chris lent his head against one of his hands, elbow resting against the table. "Why does this keep fucking happening to us?"

"I don't know, man," Mike shrugged, clearly just as hopeless as Chris was, "Maybe this is just our special fuckin' hell."

Chris murmured an agreement, and the pair sat in silence again, each consumed by their own thoughts. Occasionally, Chris' eyes would flicker to Mike, only to see him staring wordlessly at the carved stone on the counter. Chris had always thought of Mike as being rather emotionless, or at least, good at hiding his true feelings, but right now, he could see a torrent of questions pooling behind his brown eyes, pupil dilating as if a war was being fought, hidden by his irises.

"Hey, man, I gotta tell you something." Mike broke the silence quietly, causing Chris' head to snap up. His voice was hoarse, and his features were pulled into a frown, his eyes not managing to meet Chris', but instead staring off at the room behind.

Before Chris could pry, Mike was already speaking. "Last night…there was…" the words seemed to catch in his throat, as if he was struggling to continue with his story. This piqued Chris' interest. Mike had never been one to be lost for words, so seeing him so at war with himself was clearly something to be concerned about. Mike took another deep breath before finally meeting Chris' eyes, and Chris could see a bright fire burning just behind his pupils. "Last night, the stranger was here."

Chris' eyes narrowed, his brow connecting in a confused furrow, "…Yeah, but, we already knew that. 'Cause that stone was in Sam's pocket this morning." Had Mike only just come to this conclusion? Did he think that Chris didn't know this?

Mike shook his head, "No, no. You don't get it. The stranger was here, in this room, sat at this freakin' bar last night." He repeatedly thrust his index finger down onto the counter, emphasizing his point.

Chris was caught off-guard. "Wait, what the fuck do you mean? That bastard was here, last night? He was fucking skulking around in the _kitchen_? How the fuck do you know this?" So many questions came tumbling out of his mouth; he felt nauseated. Was the stranger still in the house? Was he _waiting_ for them?

Mike's eyes flickered all around the room, before shooting back up to meet Chris' curious ones. "Because I was also here."

"You _were_?" Chris couldn't stop the question, although as the words darted from his tongue, he realised it sounded more like an accusation.

"…Yeah. Uh, _she_ had some stuff, she wanted to say…I think. I-I don't really know. It's kinda foggy in my head right now." He too lent his head on his hand, sighing in confusion.

She? How had he not noticed that? Well, at second thought, he hadn't really seen the stranger for that long, not to mention she had been wearing what looked like pretty heavy, thick clothing. Chris didn't suppose there was much need for more feminine clothes up on Death Mountain. "You don't remember _anything_ she told you?

Wait, why the hell did she tell you _anything_? Why was she even here?"

"…Actually, now that you mention it, she didn't really say anything at all useful." Mike seemed dissatisfied, reaching out and taking the stone on the table and turning it in his fingers, seemingly contemplating something.

"Fat lot of good that did us then…" Chris murmured, slumping back onto the counter, before narrowing his eyes at Mike, "Hey, how come you didn't mention this earlier?" _That_ was certainly an accusation.

Mike was evidently surprised by the question, "Well, uh, well…" He took a moment to compose himself before continuing, "Do you really think it would have been a good idea to say 'Hey we all know there's a creepy stranger running around, right? Well guess what, turns out it's a skull lady and we're BFF's now. Great huh!' to that group?" He jarred his thumb towards the main hall, exasperation scrawled across his features. "Jessica, Matt and Ashley are all already pretty jumpy, and Sam's really on edge since the whole Josh thing – not to mention that I'm not really her favourite person already – I don't think it would have done much good. And I'm pretty sure Emily wouldn't have liked it very much either." The name rolled off of Mike's tongue as if it were a drop of poison, bitter and deadly.

"Mm." Chris quietly hummed his agreement, once again retraining his gaze out of the window, where snow was softly falling, creating a wall of pristine white.

"Oh," Mike stirred Chris from his thoughts with an interjection, "She did say one thing though…"

"Huh? What?" Chris murmured, casting a curious gaze over Mike."

"She said we'll be seeing her again very soon."


	32. Frostbitten

_wHO'S THE WORST? I'M THE WORST!_

 _Honestly though, I'm so sorry for not updating! I actually struggled with direction in this chapter and rewrote it a couple of times in different settings and this one just seemed to work better. More window shenanigans going on!_

 _Hope you all had a great new year and a great Christmas!_

 _(Haha remember when I said last time I'll try and update a couple of times a week? I am not making that promise again I was GREATLY mistaken :0)_

* * *

 **32\. Frostbitten**

It was around 3PM by the time that Mike woke up. He and Chris had crashed out on the kitchen counter, which seemed to have replaced Mike's bed at this point. The pair had once again slumped into silence, falling fast asleep, heads propped up on hands. Chris had gone by this point however, leaving Mike in the dimly lit kitchen.

Mike was thankful that for once, his dreams had not been plagued by nightmarish screeching and painful memories. Although, he had to say that nerves were eating away at him. He had spilt everything about the stranger to Chris, having only given it a few minutes thought. He had so desperately wanted to share what he knew – he never had been very good at keeping secrets anyhow. But the stranger's words tumbled through his mind now, as if they had been blocked by a dam of denial before. _'And remember. Not a word.'_

Mike shook his head gently; she wasn't going to know. How could she? It's not like skully had eyes everywhere or something…or maybe she did. After all, on this mountain, anything was possible.

Heaving a sigh, Michael pushed himself off of the bar stool and groggily made his way to the main hall, pulling a hand down his face as he went. Man, he really needed to get more sleep. He pushed the door open and grimaced as warm light hit his face, momentarily blinding him at the sudden change of atmosphere. Throughout the room, he could hear mumblings of conversations, and the occasional growl coming from Josh's direction. "Yeah, not today, buddy." He murmured, turning his back to the back of the room where Josh was lurking. It had been established that the wendigo was pretty much harmless on the short chain, and it wasn't as though he was strong enough to do any real damage either.

As he gazed around the room, he noticed that Chris was nowhere to be found, much to his disappointment. Chris had been Mike's main companion throughout the 'holiday' so far, as well as his main source as conversation. Without Chris, there was essentially no one who wanted to talk to him. Mike stifled a snort; it was funny how the world works – once, he had been Mr Popular himself, but now, he was just…well, he was a Chris.

Emily, Jessica and Matt were all settled around the coffee table, clearly in an intense conversation, based on the rather grave expression of Matt, the fearful one of Jess and the cold one of Emily. Mike certainly did not want to be in the middle of that conversation, he was sure.

Ashley was sat alone by the television, although she was staring up at a blank screen. A sigh of pity escaped Mike; he had never been very close with Ashley – in fact, one of the longest conversations he had had with her was the one they had last night – but even he felt sorry for her. Everyone had experienced Ashley's love and creativity at one point in their lives, and it was always much appreciated. But the more Mike watched the dishevelled girl, the less he could see of that former person. Everyone changed so much since last year, and he couldn't help but wonder how his friends saw _him_.

As much as he wanted to help Ashley, Mike knew he wasn't the one for the job, and he was much more likely to make the situation worse. With a heavy sigh, Mike decided that inside was probably not the right atmosphere for him currently. 'Cool club' over there wasn't about to accept him, and neither was Ashley. Perhaps he would fare better upstairs.

Feet dragging slightly, Mike plodded up the fight of stairs. As he walked, his gaze unconsciously flickered to look between the slats of each step, watching the shuffling form of Josh below, who was perched on the banister, nails clacking on the polished wood.

The wendigo's snarls and growls had quieted now; instead, Josh had chosen a position of inspection, his milky gaze raking over the assembled people much like Mike had a mere moment before. Mike swore he could hear a small irregular grunt coming from Josh's direction, but as soon as he tried to focus on the noise, it died away, almost as if Josh knew he was listening.

 _Weird._ Mike thought to himself, shaking his head and scrunching his eyes momentarily as he continued upwards. The strange noise had sounded like…he wasn't quite sure. It was not the animalistic growls that he was used to from Josh, no, it was more subdued, almost as if Josh was concentrating on the noise…as if he were trying to… _talk_?

Mike's brows furrowed, taking a second to pause now that he had reached the upper floor's landing; _Talk?_ He asked himself sceptically, _That's impossible, Mikey._ When someone is on their own regularly, for a long space of time, it's not uncommon for them to talk to themselves a great deal more than they would otherwise. Mike's conversations with himself had seemed to grow more and more every day, even reaching quite existential topics every now and again.

Continuing onwards, Mike swung into the room that he had been given. Of course, he hadn't really slept in there, and so the bedroom mostly serviced as a place for him to ditch his bags and change every now and again.

Speaking of which, when was the last time he changed his clothes? When was the last time he even took a shower? Mm, a shower - that sounded like a good idea. No matter how much fancy air-conditioning the Washington's might have supplied this place with, the lodge always felt somewhere between freezing and uncomfortably chilly. Wasn't it a bit early for a shower all the same? Mike wrestled with the question for another moment before shrugging it off, coming the conclusion that if he stopped having arguments with himself every other minute, he would get a lot more stuff done.

His shower was far from brisk, and that was for a number of reasons. Of course, Mike figured that general cleanliness was the main factor, but he also really _really_ wanted an excuse to not have to deal with everyone downstairs. As much as he had been craving someone to talk to over time, he seemed to have forgotten how weird his friends had been – and they'd only gotten more odd as the months has passed.

Mike was only dressed from the waist down when he exited the bathroom, a choice which he regretted almost immediately. But then again, there wasn't usually someone waiting in his room.

"Nice shower?"

Mike almost jumped out of his skin at the presence of the stranger, skittering back a pace with a muttered chorus of "Jesus fucking-! Fuck fuck fuck…shit." A cold wave passed over him after the initial shock, causing him to shiver. "You can't just walk in on a guy like that!" Honestly, Mike figured he should be more surprised, confused, disgusted and outraged, but after all that had happened so far, another appearance of the stranger wasn't high on the list of shocking moments.

"Mm," the stranger mused; her mask was off and part of Mike wished it wasn't, because he could see her glaring daggers at him, "And you can't jus' go tellin' people somethin' I asked you t' keep secret. But here we are." She gestured with both arms to the area around them, her gaze never leaving Mike's face. The stranger seemed to be searching his features, calculating something behind scarred eyes.

An instinctual desire to defend himself rose up in Mike's chest. "Hey hold on there-" he began indignantly, waving his index finger at the stranger, only to be cut off by a steely roll of the eyes as she sat down on the windowsill, clearly unimpressed.

Mike swallowed the lump in his throat, finally gaining enough composure to put up a good argument. "Chris is…he's a good guy, all right? You can trust him. He isn't gonna tell anyone about this." His voice threatened to break under the harsh glare of the stranger – a small voice at the back of Mike's head mused how funny it was that someone who at least physically wasn't very intimidating, save for the scars, caused him to feel such fear; it was like she carried terror in an aura around her.

The stranger contemplated Mike's statement, "All that might be true, now, but that don't change the fact that it wasn't 'Chris' who I chose to trust." She jabbed her finger in his direction; her hand was not gloved, and Mike could see many cuts (some still fresh) littering her tan skin, "It was _you_ I chose to trust, Mike."

He froze. How the hell did she know his name?...Actually, Mike already knew the answer. If the stranger knew about his dealings with Chris, she would surely know his _name_ by now. Mike felt an odd chill run down his back; how much did she know? This stranger…how much did she know about everyone's lives? Who else did she know about?

He took a moment to send a stare her way before quickly grabbing a shirt off of the bed and pulling it on – he'd had enough of being shirtless for now. "You know," he muttered as he forced his head through the collar, "If you keep nosing around in people's business, someone's not gonna like it one of these days." He had to make a stand. He wasn't about to let this kid walk all over him – Mike had to assert at least _some_ power.

"Oh, who? You?" The stranger scoffed, her lip curling in something akin to a smirk. Mike cringed slightly as he noticed how a selection of teeth were absent from her mouth, and the rest were chipped and crooked.

Before Mike could retort, the stranger shrugged, "Mm, you could have some point, though, I s'pose. It ain't gonna stop me, all the same." He heard a small rumble of a laugh from her, barely audible, but he couldn't manage to mirror her mood. The stranger was clearly much more at ease in this situation than he was. "Tell you what, though, since you're clearly feelin' at a disadvantage here – and I must tell ya, I do enjoy havin' the advantage – I'll let ya in on another piece of information, Mikey."

Mike's eyes narrowed at the nickname – she was clearly just toying with him at this point, and there wasn't much he could do to stop it. An idea slowly slipped into his head, and he chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Actually, you can tell me something I actually _want_ to know," he reflexively took a step towards her, earning a look of piqued curiosity from the stranger, "Who the _fuck_ are you and why are you here?"

The stranger shrugged nonchalantly, "Ain't that an interesting turn of events? Sorry to disappoint ya pal, but I'm really nothin' special." She paused uncertainly for a moment at Mike's clearly annoyed glare before regaining her usual indifferent composure, "I s'pose that won't do it for ya though, will it, Mikey? What're you lookin' for? A name? I can give ya one of them if ya want." Mike released a breath he didn't even know he was holding – finally, it seemed as though the stranger was yielding.

"The name's Nova, Mikey." She pushed herself of off of the windowsill and reached to shake Mike's hand, her ghastly grin quirked upwards and her eyes narrowed.

Unknowing of what other course of action to take, Mike shook Nova's hand, pausing for a moment as he felt how raw and calloused her palm was; rough and covered in cuts, he wondered what she must do in order to get in such a state. Of course, Nova was still yet to answer that question.

She released his hand and shoved her own in her pockets, watching Mike closely. There was a second of silence and Mike was surprised to actually find himself staring down at Nova – she seemed to be shorter than she appeared. Although he reached quite the stature of 6'2", Nova could not be more than 5'7", possibly 5'8". Perhaps it was the large coat she normally wore that made her look tall, or maybe it was simply the intimidating presence she carried with her, creating a largeness as soon as she entered a room.

"As for your other question," Nova began, running her hand through her dark hair which was hanging everywhere in a fairly straggly mess, "I'm _here_ 'cause this is my home. There ain't no better reason than that."

It was Mike's turn to scoff. "Really? Because as far as I know, the Washington's own this mountain, not you." His mind was jerked back into last year, when he had said something very similar to _someone_ very similar. The thought rolled in his brain for a minute; Mike was fairly certain that Nova must have had something to do with the flamethrower guy from last year. After reading his journals (of which many had been found in the investigations) it became clear that the flamethrower guy had had something to do with the Cree tribe – they were his ancestors and, judging by Nova's complexion and general hardiness, perhaps they were hers too.

"What the Washington's don't know don't hurt 'em." Nova told him matter-of-factly, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. "But I got reasons to stay here, see. Or at least, I did have…" she trailed off, staring just past Mike with a frown etched on her face, as if she had forgotten her words. Mike noticed the small shake of her head before Nova retrained her gaze back onto his, "Y'know, with your friend. Josh, I think."

 _That wasn't what she was going to say._ Another thought rang through his head, but Mike didn't press on it; that wasn't the stuff he needed to know.

"Oh, speaking of," Nova's voice perked again, "I'm gonna need you to meet me tonight."

Mike was taken aback. "What? You want me to meet you _again_? What the hell could you need me for now?" He'd had enough of Nova. As much as she brought some interesting antics into his life, she needed to go now before she ended up dragging everyone else in.

"Well," she shrugged, "If ya want to keep your pal under control, I'm gonna need to give you some stuff." That sounded like a threat. The gravity of the situation weighed on him; he was already in way too deep to back out now, which meant Nova was free to do whatever she wanted, and he'd have to follow along.

Begrudgingly, he sighed, "Fine. Where do you want me?"

Nova pondered a minute. "Mm, just by the path goin' t' the sanatorium. 'Bout midnight, I should think." After she spoke, she thought a pause more before nodding finally, "Yeah, that'll do."

"Alright, okay." Great, out in the freaking forest at midnight. Going towards the sanatorium. Honestly, he thought he had had enough of this last year…evidentially not.

Without further instructions, Nova simply strolled back over to the window, and readied herself to push herself out into the frosty night. "Why do you have to break in all the time?" Mike muttered, not intending for her to hear.

But hear she did, "Ah, well y'know, keeps things exiting, don't it. Dramatic entrances are one of my many skills." Nova swung herself out of the window, almost dropping completely from view, just her neck still visible above the sill.

"Oh right, yeah, almost forgot," Mike stepped closer to hear her, bracing himself against the cold breeze that was floating through the window – how she dealt with this, he wouldn't know. "You're gonna have to bring Emily with ya."

Mike's heart stopped for a second.

Oh god.

Not _Emily._


	33. Dead of Winter

_Hey guys! I wrote this one over a period of three days with my mock examinations going on, so probably not the best use of my time! However, this chapter_ is _4,309 words long! It was 10 pages when I wrote it out in Word, so I'm incredibly excited!_

 _I know Emily may not be many people's favourites, but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, even if it's only the second half!_

* * *

 **33\. Dead of Winter**

Emily had been in deep thought since the night prior. The stones were enigmatic by themselves, but Nova? She was an anomaly. Emily couldn't help but feel like she was betraying her friends by keeping the stranger's secret, but then again, she wasn't a snitch.

And so, Emily was left awkwardly trying to dodge around the situation as she described a dream which had taken place less than an hour after she had found the stone. Jessica and Matt were sat opposite from her, both leaning forwards in interest, mugs of hot chocolate grasped tightly in their hands.

"It was just so…weird, you know?" For once, Emily was at a loss for words; her dream was pretty much indescribable, despite how vivid it was in her mind. "I was on the mountain, and it was pretty freaking cold – like full on real snowstorm, right?" She waited for the interested nods of Jessica and Matt, who were listening with baited breath. "And then I was at this massive fucking building, it was, like, _huge_. And I'm pretty sure that it was that weird-ass sanatorium, but like, I've never been there, I've never even _seen_ that place up close, but it was, like, so detailed, as if I'd been there before."

Her story wasn't over yet, but Emily wanted to know what her companions thought so far, shrugging her shoulders as indication that they could speak.

"Jesus, Em," Matt murmured, leaning back and wiping one hand over his eye in an arc, as if he were still trying to take in the story, "I mean, are you sure you're not just freaking out a bit because we're all back up here?" His suggestion made sense; she had been stressed out about coming back to the lodge, but normally tension manifested itself in nightmares, but this dream had been far from it.

"No, no, that's not it," she waved him off and shook her head quickly, leaning forwards, her elbows balanced on her knees so she could gesture with her hands. "Listen, in the dream, I went inside the sanatorium, and it was completely trashed, like, bricks and walls just strewn _everywhere._ " Her fingers pulsed outwards as she tried to explain, expressing herself more clearly. "But, as I said already, it was fucking freezing outside, so I kept going in, right? And I ended up in this weird big chapel room, but there was barely anything left inside it, and the ceiling was falling in."

Jessica was still leaning in close, fingers still closed tightly around her mug, as if she was too enraptured in Emily's story than her drink.

"But then, in like, the centre or whatever, there was this little set of chairs and a radio and a small TV. Of course, I wondered 'What the hell is that doing here?', so I went to investigate." A frown moulded itself onto Emily's features, and she found herself staring at the wooden floor, eyes distant. Her hands were curling in on themselves as she tried to recall the memory.

"There was a small table too." Her voice seemed far more distant now, causing Jessica and Matt to watch her with concern, "And there was this little book on the side next to this huge pile of all of these weird blank stones. So, I reached out to take the book and read it…" Emily trailed off.

"And then what?" Jess' head tilted as her eyes narrowed in confusion, "What happened, Em?"

Emily looked up hopelessly. "I couldn't make out the words. As soon as I tried to read it, I woke up." A heavy sigh escaped her and she stared at Matt and Jess, looking lost. "Any ideas?"

"I think Matt might be right, Em," Jessica began cautiously, careful not to say anything that might enrage or annoy her friend, "I mean, it does seem really specific – with the stones and everything…" Her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what to say. "I don't know, but it does kinda sound like you're freaking out just a _little_ bit because we're back here."

Matt cringed. He knew that Jessica had moved too far with that one. Emily had very strict lines on how she and people who knew her should conduct themselves, and they were _extremely_ thin. More so than usual, thanks to her ordeal last year. Emily seemed to be on edge every moment – now even when she was asleep, it appeared.

"I'm _not_ overreacting!" Emily recoiled from Jessica, fixing her with a glare. "I'm not stressing out! And even if I _was_ , which I certainly am _not_ , I would have perfectly good reason to! It's not like _you_ were almost shot in the fucking head anyways!" She was livid. Seething, Emily tried to blink away the tears that had welled up in her eyes as she yelled.

Matt and Jessica looked taken aback. They'd both experienced this before – everyone had experienced Emily's wrath in some from. But this was not the same selfish, motivated anger that had once possessed Emily, no, this was a resentment driven by sadness. Anger and intimidation – that was what Emily had always fallen back on. No matter where she was or what ailed her, her relentless screams would always get her what she wanted…

But not now. Not this time. Her anger was empty. Driven by nothing but painful memories and a deep, crushing melancholy. She felt it in her chest like an empty pit. Where her words had once dripped with venom, her mouth now felt try, as if the toxins had been sucked right out.

Her head was pounding; she could hear her blood rushing all around her brain, she could feel her heartbeat in her wrists. Emily lent against the back of the couch and stared up into the ceiling, inhaling much needed long breaths.

A minute or so passed before Emily sat up again, breath still slightly shaky, and hair flying in all directions. She stared at Matt and Jessica who's gazes flickered from her to between themselves, as if they were having a silent conversation. "Guys, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to go off like that, and I-"

She was cut off by Matt, who stood and raised a hand. Jessica stood beside him. "It's alright, Em, we get it." For the first time, Emily realised how _tired_ his voice sounded. Not the type of tired derived from a lack of sleep, but he was emotionally exhausted. "We're going to, uh, give you some space for a bit, alright?"

It wasn't really her choice either way, she knew that. And so, with her throat tightening, Emily watched as her two friends slowly left, making their way up the stairs until they were out of sight.

That only left herself and Ashley in the room…oh, right, and Josh. Ashley had moved from her position by the television to one much closer to the wendigo, and even from here, Emily could see that Ashley was watching Josh very closely. _Freak…_ she thought to herself, before immediately grimacing at her own ideas. _Jeez, no wonder no one wants to hang out around you._

Completely devoid of energy, Emily let her head hit the couch again, pulling her feet up under her. Feeling rather small, she closed her eyes, but sleep evaded her. Too many thoughts rushed around her head, and the small growls coming from Josh's direction didn't act as much of a lullaby.

 _Ugh…how could I be so stupid?_ Emily felt hollow, as if someone had reached in and taken out all of her internal organs, leaving her as just a shell. She felt disembodied, and she could feel herself dissociating, slowly drifting away from where she sat, lost in thought. How could she have treated Matt and Jess in that way? They were trying to help her, and she threw it in their face, along with a guilt-trip and a pity story. _Pathetic…_ She couldn't stop the word from cropping up in her mind, causing her to shrink away, wishing that everything would just stop for a second.

In a way, it _did_ feel like she was missing some part of her…a lot of her, in fact. She, Matt and Jessica, they made a really good team – but they were more than that. They say that a person is made of the body and the soul - that was Matt and Jess all right. Matt, the strong rock upon which they all stood; a pillar of certainty and trust throughout hard times, physical and real. And Jessica; lively, spirited and pure, always there to offer guidance and help. But where did that leave her in their body? _Perhaps that's why they say 'three's a crowd'_ , Emily mused, her thoughts cloudy.

But all the same, Emily knew where she fitted in into the body. She was the brain; analytical, calculating and clever, offering facts and the cold truth when no one else would. _Huh…_ Compared to the support and love Matt and Jessica offered respectively, she could see why she may have been the weak link of the group.

Did she have any strengths? Any at all? Did she help anyone in any way? Ever?

Questions bombarded Emily's mind, causing her head to throb. With the sudden sensation of pain, she was snapped back into reality, blinking repeatedly to clear the black spots from her vision.

Her chest was heaving slightly, and she looked around in confusion, only to see Ashley staring at her from where she was sat, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. Emily just about managed a weak smile back before Ashley was distracted again by another clink of the chain and another series of growls following the noise.

"Huuhhh…" Emily breathed, pushing herself down into the couch so that her head rested between the back of the seat and the armrest. This time, exhausted, sleep overcame Emily easily and she soon drifted off into a slumber with coarse snarls and the tinkle of a chain to accompany her.

* * *

Emily was shaken awake by a firm hand on her shoulder, causing her eyes to fly open, her gaze darting around wildly. "Matt?! What's wrong?"

…That was not Matt. That was most _definitely_ not Matt.

Emily scrambled to the other side of the sofa, heart thumping as if it was threatening to burst through her skin. Mike was stood at the other end of the couch, a pained grimace spread across his face as he stared off to the side rather than at her. "Hey, Em."

Emily sucked in a deep gulp of air, about to scream for help, panic flitting in her stomach, when Mike raised his hands in a frantic 'STOP' motion. "Hey hey no no. No. Don't do that. For the love of Christ please don't do that." He seemed agitated. Although it was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now.

She had been deliberately avoiding contact with Mike for the duration of the stay so far, and for damn good reasons too. Having contracted what looked to be a form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after her near-death experience at the hands of Michael, she had all the rights in the world to stay away from him. Unfortunately, it appeared that Mike didn't quite grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Could you just listen to me, for one freakin' moment? Please?" Mike rationalised as Emily looked like she was about to scream again.

It took Emily a moment to collect her thoughts, and to stop her mind running away with her emotions. Finally, she mustered her voice; "What do you want, you fucking psycho?" It wasn't a pretty insult, and it wasn't a good one, but in this state, it was the most Emily could manage.

Mike made a move to sit on the arm of the chair, but seeing Emily's wild flashing eyes, he quickly collected himself and remained standing, shoving his hands into the worn pockets of the green jacket. "Listen, you know about Nova, right?"

The words caught Emily off guard. How in the world did Mike know about Nova too? Thoughts raced through her mind in a second, flooding her brain with barely enough time to process them. Frowning, she stared up at Mike, her eyes unblinking, "Yeah, we've met." She tried her best to stay distant and cold – like the old Emily. Of course, she hadn't been 'the old Emily' in a long time.

Mike made another regretful expression, wiping his hand up through his hair as his eyes darted around the room, clearly nervous. "She wants us – yeah, you and me," he broke off as Emily glanced between the two of them sceptically, "to go, I don't know, meet her outside in like, fifteen minutes." He was clearly struggling for phrasing that wouldn't cause Emily to refuse to accompany him.

Fortunately, Emily's response was only one of curiosity. "Why?"

His hands were thrown up in exasperation, "I don't know! She just climbed in through my window, yelled at me a little, told me to bring you and meet her out by the path to the sanatorium at midnight. It's kinda blurry to be honest."

Emily wasn't quite sure why, but she could feel a small smirk coming onto her face. "She sure does love climbing through windows, huh?" The comment she made was muttered half to herself, causing Mike to tilt his head slightly in wonder.

Emily's mind worked faster than the average person's would. Where they would have deliberated their options for a while, Emily weighed up the pros and cons in seconds.

Pushing herself up from the couch, trying to stop her legs from shaking with nervousness and lack of use, she nodded to Mike, a small pool of dread swirling in her stomach. "Alright. Let's go."

She followed Mike out, grabbing her coat and shrugging it on, making sure to do it up right to her neck. Part of her was only now just processing the deal she had made. Why had she agreed to go out into the freezing cold forest in the middle of the night with _Mike_ of all people? Perhaps it was for nostalgias sake. Emily couldn't really be sure. She wasn't in touch with her inner feelings enough to be certain.

Slipping out into the night, Emily felt the cold wind blast against her face, chilling her to the bones in seconds. It was then she wished she was wearing more than some leggings, fur boots and a coat. She shivered constantly, teeth chattering uncomfortably. Mike looked to be in the same boat, his arms crossed and legs drawn together in a poor effort to conserve heat.

Sighing, Emily pulled out her phone and flicked on the torch which lit the white ground almost blindingly. "Fucckkk it's cold." She heard Mike's complaints and rolled her eyes. _Men._

"So, uh, where's this path?" She queried desperately wanting to move to at least create some form of warmth for herself. Her legs already felt like icicles, and her fingers weren't far behind, clasping to the phone as if they were frozen to it.

"That way." Mike breathed, raising a gloved hand to point into the shadowed distance.

Grimacing, Emily began to walk forwards, her feet making quiet sounds in the snow as she trudged along. "I really do not like this."

Her phone lighting the way, Emily and Mike walked side by side in silence, except for the occasional grunts and chatters that would be expelled from their mouths as an instinctual reaction to the cold. Emily's mind was running rampant at that time, calculating every way she could possibly die in this scenario, and god, were there a lot.

It was weird, right? That she was walking through the woods at midnight, freezing to death, with someone who had tried to kill her…right? And she was going to meet a deranged skull-wearing stranger who had previously climbed through her window in the dead of night. _This is so messed up._ The last situation she had been in that was like this was exactly last year, but her journey had been a little more rushed thanks to a certain monster trying to tear her limb from limb. In fact, there had been another weird stranger then, too. The parallels were nearly endless the more Emily began to think about it. She was lost deep in thought, unconsciously following Mike before he suddenly stopped in his tracks. "This is it."

Emily shone her torch upwards to see a small directional sign pointing down a rather abandoned looking path with the words 'Blackwood Sanatorium' written on in white lettering. Frowning, she looked around the area, shining the flashlight around through the trees that had quickly surrounded them, looking for someone in the darkness. "Well? Where is she?"

Mike was looking equally confused. He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, squinting down the path, into the darkness in an effort to see if Nova was there. "I, um, I don't actually know. Maybe we're early?" He suggested, avoiding catching Emily's eye. "I mean, we did kind of come early – I was expecting you to put up more of a fight and…" Mike trailed off, cringing at his own words.

Emily's only response was panic. "Oh. My. God. You _did_ come here to kill me! I knew it, I freaking knew it!" She took a step back from Mike, fixing him with an icy, and equally terrifying glare, "If you take a step near me Michael…" Her threat was left empty, but she didn't care, it did the job.

"Em! I wasn't trying to kill you!" He tried to reason, but Emily's folded arms and piercing gaze showed she was having none of it. "Jesus, do you really think I would kill you?" The reality hit him like a stone, so hard it was visible, his face morphing into one of sudden understanding.

It was too late, however; Emily could already feel her sour expression contorting into one of rage. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it last year!" Her retort was scathing - a low blow which Mike clearly felt. He looked as if his legs were about to buckle.

"I- I didn't _want_ to Em! We were fucking scared, it wasn't my-"

"Would'cha look at that; these two ain't really a happy family, are they?" Nova's voice cut through the air like a blade, and the pair immediately whipped round to face the trees, Emily shining her torch into the thickets, squinting to see through the falling snow, previous thoughts completely abandoned. "Boo."

Nova appeared beside them, deer-skull once again adorned. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, as if even through her thick layers of protection, the cold still bit at her bones as it did Emily's. Of course, Emily couldn't read Nova's expression, but by the tone of her muffled voice, she guessed it would be a crooked grin.

"Mm, lovely to see you, too." Nova replied bitterly as neither Mike nor Emily replied to her snide greeting.

Mike was the first to respond, jump-started by Nova's prompt. "Uh, sorry about that, but could you really not have picked someone else?" Emily bit her tongue. _That_ was harsh. She narrowed her eyes at the pair but didn't utter a word, the corners of her mouth being pulled down in a tight grimace to stop another outburst.

Nova scoffed, scratching the back of her neck, "If I would I could, Mikey. But unfortunately, you two are stuck together. So you better get fuckin' used to it fuckin' fast." Tonight was clearly no time for games, Emily realised gravely as Nova's voice turned darker and more annoyed than she had heard it. "And could ya stop shining that light in my face?" She growled, causing Emily to switch of the torch instinctively.

"Now," Nova said, her voice normal again, "I've got some stuff stored up in a cabin up here that I'm gonna need to give you for your, uh, Josh." She seemed unsure of how to refer to the wendigo. Of course, Emily would have preferred to term 'freak', but that had been frowned on by the rest of the group. Mike only nodded.

Before either of them could say anything else, a shrill whistle echoed out of the skull, only amplified by the hollow bones. The pair frowned at each other – what now?

All of a sudden, she heard a thumping noise coming up the path behind them. She only just turned in time to avoid being bowled over by a huge white wolf, which went charging straight to Mike. He was nearly thrown backwards as the canine jumped up on its hind paws, reaching up to Mike.

"Jesus, Wolfie!" Came the delighted voice of Mike, "You've grown." The wolf only responded with a thorough wag of his tail, before jumping down, his mouth agape as if he was smiling.

Nova was watching with interest. "He sure likes you."

Mike was wearing a beaming grin on his face – wider than any one Emily had seen in a long time. He was crouched down beside the wolf, rapidly scratching behind his ears and patting him gently. Emily even swore she heard a 'Who's a good boy?' being cooed at the wolf.

Emily was still taken aback; "What the hell is this?" She gestured at the wolf, turning to Nova with a bemused and annoyed expression. Wolfie glanced at her for a second, tail wagging before turning his attention back to Mike, who was still completely smitten at having found his best friend again.

"'S my wolf." Nova replied simply, "I assume that Mikey here had some dealin's with him last year, right?"

Mike nodded profusely, whilst Nova only shrugged. "Yeah, he won't forget a friend. Millie's got a great taste in character, to be fair."

Michael stood up quickly. "I'm sorry – 'Millie'? What type of name is that for a wolf?"

Nova only chuckled, beginning to walk down the path that lead to the sanatorium, clicking to the wolf which obediently followed at her heels, although not before he paused to sniff at Emily curiously. "I'll tell ya while we walk, all right?"

Mike strode in tandem with Nova – something which proved quite a feat considering how fast she travelled with a considerably shorter gait. Emily trailed along behind, still freezing half to death.

"Y'see, 'Wolfie' here – real creative name, by the way, didn't always have a name," Nova began, her voice still muffled by the deer skull that rested on her head. "Nah, not until y'all came to the mountain last year." This caused Emily to frown – if this was her wolf, Nova must have been here last year, when the flamethrower guy had.

"Your friend Josh put up those fake wanted fliers all around the goddamned mountain – 'Victor Milgram', they read, I believe. Anyways, my-" she quickly broke off, shaking her head before picking up her words where she left off. Emily squinted at her – what was Nova going to say? "I thought that was pretty funny, to tell the truth, so this here," she gestured at the wolf, "Is Milgram, or Millie as I like to call him."

"Nah, he's Wolfie to me." Mike replied, affectionately stroking the wolf that walked alongside him.

By the time that the trio had finished conversing – or rather, by the time Mike and Nova had finished conversing, and when Emily had stopped listening in – they had reached a small shack on the way to the sanatorium. It was clearly no form of living accommodation due to the lack of one wall and blown in windows, but it evidently sufficed as somewhere to store things that one might want to keep hidden.

Nova proceeded inside before emerging a second later with two bags. One was more of a large burlap sack which could be hoisted over the shoulder, whilst the other was a satchel that was designed to be worn. She tossed the satchel to Emily, who barely caught it with shaking hands, and passed the sack effortlessly to Mike, who groaned under its weight as he slung it over his shoulder.

"That in there," she gestured to the bag that Emily carried, "has some stuff you'll need to help keep that there wendigo spirit at bay. The original stuff I had up here wouldn't work indoors, so I've modified the rituals a bit and _hopefully_ they should work for ya. Just hang 'em up around the lodge." Emily peered inside, seeing a small selection of items that were crafted of carved beads and feathers, reminding her vaguely of dreamcatchers.

"And that," Nova moved to motion at Mike, "Is raw deer meat."

Emily almost gagged and Mike looked disgusted, "It's _what_?"

"Hm, didn't take you for the squeamish type," Nova commented offhandedly, before continuing her explanation. "See, you can't just starve a wendigo, otherwise after a while they'll die, and a wendigo dyin', as I'm sure you know, releases its spirit back into the air. But you also can't give it human flesh, for obvious reasons." Nova shrugged again, "So you give 'em deer meat. Enough to sustain the body, but barely enough to supply any energy to the wendigo spirit. You just hack that up and feed it to your friend, and he'll be…well, he ain't gonna be any better, but he'll be manageable."

With that, Nova waved a hand in farewell and made her way off up the track towards the sanatorium, clicking with her tongue so that Wolfie followed.

Mike and Emily were left staring at each other. So many questions and theories rose up in their minds unanimously about what had happened on this mountain over the past year. But Mike summed up what both of them were feeling very concisely:

"What the fuck?"


End file.
